The Truth of Shadows
by SilverKytten
Summary: Sometimes the person you least expect is the one who finds you in the darkness.  *Language, Adult Themes - Light Yaoi Themes. Rating subject to change.*
1. Monday

_**A/N:**__ Just a quick word and then I'll leave you to the story. For those of you who are interested in timelines, this takes place just after Ichigo and Co. return from their foray into Soul Society to save Rukia from execution. Aizen has not yet begun to make his move, Ichigo has yet to fully launch into his struggles with his hollow side and all parties are just starting to prepare for the things to come._

_For those of you who have followed my other work, I have two pieces of news for you. 1) In an attempt to avoid my periods of writers block on this story, I decided to finish it before starting to post it online. As a result, you should be seeing frequent updates, as all I need to do is do a final once-over on the remaining chapters. 2) I have also been writing on my other story, Shades of Grey, and have the better part of three chapters completed. You should hopefully be seeing those soon, as well._

_Okay, enough of me...I hope you enjoy the show ~_

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><p><strong>Monday – <strong>

_**~ "We stand together or we don't stand at all. Together we stand and together we fall." ~**_

It was just approaching what might be considered late when I passed him on the street, going in the opposite direction. I couldn't sleep, like so many nights, and sometimes it was easier to roam the town as a Shinigami than lay in bed as a fucked up teenager. At least that way I felt proactive, even if it amounted to shit in the end. Aizen had the Hougyoku and even though they said it'll take him awhile to use it, he's still going to be a major problem someday soon. How was I supposed to be still, and patient, and calm with all that shit hanging over my head.

I was wandering through Urahara's neighborhood, keeping an eye out for anything unusual, when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have recognized him if it'd been more than a week since our fucked up 'save Rukia' fiasco. As it was, I sort of tripped to a halt, staring at the back of his head as he drifted along with a few stragglers still out in the darkness. Ukitake Juushiro, captain of the 13th division, wandering the streets in a gigai like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. At least I was pretty sure it was him, except that he looked completely different.

I didn't even hesitate as I pivoted to follow him, trying to keep my distance until I figured out if it was safe. It was just too fucking weird and honestly, the way shit was going, you couldn't be too careful sometimes. His hair was still snowy white, but it was pulled back at the nape and tied off with a piece of leather or something. He was dressed like a normal person, too; all dark in black pants and a green button down shirt, rolled up to his forearms. He looked so comfortable and human that I started to think I was seeing things until he stopped on the sidewalk with a little sigh and glanced at me over his shoulder. Not human, then; not if he could see me like this.

"Lovely night isn't it, Kurosaki-kun?" He waited patiently as I approached, eyeing him with a degree of surly suspicion.

"Ukitake-taichou?" I stopped a few feet away, my right hand twitching as though waiting for the inevitable trap to spring.

"Indeed." The corners of his lips lifted faintly, "I assure you, I truly am myself."

I frowned, because I couldn't seem to decide if that was a straight answer or some sort of dubious riddle. I snuck a quick glance around the nearly empty street, but everything looked fine. It seemed like a pretty unlikely trap when I really stopped to think about it. Sleep deprivation and unrelenting stress probably weren't the best friends for my already shady trust issues.

"What are you doing here?" I asked quietly, some of my apprehension easing, though the confusion remained. I knew it sounded like an interrogation, but I just couldn't help it.

He didn't seem to take offense, reaching up to brush a piece of loose hair behind his ear as he shrugged. "Seireitei has business with Urahara Kisuke. I was sent as a liaison."

"Is it Aizen?" I sharpened instantly, taking another step toward him.

"It's nothing to concern yourself with," he deflected, giving me another tired smile. "Just a few minor details."

"Oh," I muttered, the residual tension sliding from my frame, leaving me drifting and a little lost. Some nights it was getting harder to tell which was worse, the fear of inevitable attack or the helplessness of stagnant waiting. It was wearing on me. "Sorry about the questions, it was just kinda weird to see you...here."

I shifted uneasily, the restlessness washing over me again even though I had nowhere to go. I needed to keep moving, and I needed to rest, and I just needed _something _to happen before I lost my mind.

"It truly is no problem. Your vigilance is an admirable quality," he said sincerely, looking ready to resume his previous course. He paused, as though something belatedly occurred to him, and hesitated for a fraction of a second before turning to catch my eye. "Would you care to keep me company while I walk?"

The oddity of the casual request snapped me out of my slowly spinning disquiet. I opened my mouth to decline, but realized I didn't have any reason to; I had nothing else to do in the ever thickening darkness. He tilted his head slightly as he turned to move away, and I silently fell in next to him because I didn't know what else to do. He came to the end of the block and paused, looking off toward the center of town before seeming to decide against whatever he was thinking. He continued straight and I followed, because wandering the streets alone suddenly felt a little depressing.

"You're out late," he noted absently, tucking his hands into his pockets and staring up at the sky.

"I wasn't tired," I grumbled, shifting Zangetsu against my shoulder to ease the dull ache.

"That seems to be contagious lately," he murmured softly. "I would tell you not to worry so much, but that would sound awfully hypocritical."

I turned to watch him as we passed a flickering streetlight and realized he looked tired, and a little sad. He seemed to look like that every time I'd seen him, though, so I didn't really know what to make of it.

"Have you…um… been here long?" I fucking suck at small talk; never had much use for it in the past.

"No." He paused at the edge of the curb, checking the street for traffic before jogging leisurely across. "I actually just arrived this afternoon. I'll be in town for about a week."

"Oh." It was hard to picture him stuck in the human world for so long, even from what little I knew of him. "You draw the short straw on this assignment?"

He chuckled softly at my assumption.

"I volunteered," he admitted, glancing around briefly as though getting his bearings. "I rather enjoy this world, when I have the chance to visit. It's quite liberating to be free from the titles and responsibilities of Seireitei, if only for a short time."

"Sorta like a vacation from being a Shinigami?" I ventured, trying to carry the thread of simple conversation.

"Exactly," he sighed wistfully, giving me a fleeting smile. "I don't have to be a captain here; I can be whatever I want to be, so long as I complete the task I was assigned."

I could understand that. It must be pretty stressful to have people relying on you all the time, looking to you for answers at every turn. From what I'd seen and heard, he seemed like an amazing captain, but even the best need a break now and then. No wonder he looked so comfortable in his human clothes. This was his escape.

"Oh fuck," I muttered, drawing up short. "You were going somewhere, weren't you? When I stopped you?"

He turned a little, shrugging in the semi-darkness. "It wasn't important."

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," I apologized, feeling like an asshole. "I just wanted to make sure you were who you seemed to be. I can take off if you have shit to do."

"I _asked_ you to join me," he reminded me, tilting his head to one side as he regarded me with a bemused sort of fondness. "There's always tomorrow, and I find myself better entertained by your company tonight."

He stepped off the sidewalk and into an open field, slowing briefly so that I could catch up. The grass crunched softly underfoot as we trudged along in silence, taking a somewhat indirect path toward a faint glow in the distance. I hadn't been paying attention to where we were headed, but he seemed to know the area so I wasn't concerned.

"So where were you going?" I asked finally, curious what someone like him did for fun.

"Nowhere terribly exciting," he assured me with a chuckle. "There was a lounge downtown that was supposed to have a decent live band tonight."

"Music?" I was a little surprised.

"I believe I'm permitted at least one vaguely interesting hobby, even at my age," he muttered dryly.

"I didn't mean…" I trailed off, wondering how to finish the sentence without sounding like an ass.

"Don't concern yourself," he waved me off, "You have every reason to be surprised. You hardly know me."

The field was rapidly coming to an end, but he continued undaunted, weaving through a grouping of trees and into the glow of a dimly lit park. I blinked, looking around at the familiar scene.

"Hey, we're getting close to my house," I said absently, wandering toward a well worn swing set. "My sisters used to come here to play when we were kids."

He followed more slowly, his eyes raking over the trees and sky.

"I found this park a few years ago," he said quietly, his focus turning inward for a brief, reflective moment. "It reminds me of a place in Soul Society my vice-captain used to favor while he was still alive."

He paused for a moment, inhaling the clean, night air, staring at nothing in particular.

"I can't visit that place often, because Kiyone and Sentarou have decided that it means I'm melancholy and therefore strive to distract me by the loudest means possible."

He fell silent, lost to the moment and the remembrance it brought.

"Rukia says I look like him," I muttered, running my fingers over the chain suspending one of the swings. "Like Kaien, I mean."

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before his eyes fixed on me with an old sort of wistfulness.

"You do," he admitted quietly, "You're very much like him in some respects, and very different in others."

"I'm sorry," I said awkwardly. I didn't like the thought of causing unintended pain.

"Don't be sorry, Kurosaki-kun," he admonished gently, sliding into an empty swing. "I hold no grudge for whatever hints of Kaien you may stir in my memory."

I frowned down at my fingers, pale against the warn metal.

"I guess I know how that is," I sighed, dragging Zangetsu off my back and laying him on the grass. He eyed me with mild curiosity and I shrugged. "My sister, Yuzu, reminds me more of my mom each year, but it's not a bad thing. It's just the way it is."

I lowered myself onto the swing next to him as he nodded in understanding. The ground was furrowed with years of heavy wear and I kicked off gently, the chains whining in protest. The breeze trailed its fingers through my hair and I felt the familiar, dull ache of memory settle over me.

"It's natural to find comfort in seeing the dead reflected in the living," he said softly. "It reminds us that they live on through those they leave behind."

"It's fucked up," I muttered, scuffing my toes against the ground.

I winced at my choice of words, but he either didn't notice or didn't seem to mind.

"It's part of our world," he continued. "Loss and memory burn as bright as flesh and blood sometimes. It's inevitable, really, with the nature of our existence."

I didn't have any clever retort, because I knew it was true even if I didn't want to think about it. I knew we'd all been lucky, _really_ lucky, when it came to scraping through alive up to that point. I also wasn't stupid enough to believe our luck would hold out forever. I wasn't ready to see the faces of my dead friends reflected in those who managed to survive. I wasn't ready to even _think_ about it.

"Kurosaki-kun." His voice broke through my spinning thoughts and I realized he was watching me, his head resting against the chain as he swayed slowly. He smiled at me, gentle and worn. "Try not to dwell on it. No amount of worry can change the future, and it can be dangerous if the fear slips in at the wrong moment."

He rose from his seat, rolling his shoulders slowly.

"Besides," he continued, the smile creeping toward his eyes. "I happen to believe in your rather uncanny ability to overcome fate. You may prove to be the best of us yet."

I snorted faintly, but the words stirred a spark of hope inside me. He was right. When it all came down to it, there was no use worrying over shit that hadn't happened. Besides, I wouldn't let it happen, so it didn't even matter.

He wandered a few steps away to a patch of especially dense grass, turning a slow circle as he eyed it critically. It seemed to meet with some unspoken standard because he sank gracefully to his knees, running his hands over the soft blades before rolling onto his back. He laced his fingers behind his head, sighing up at the sky.

"So, what do you do for entertainment, Kurosaki-kun?" He turned his head, catching my gaze through the dusky shadows. "When you're not patrolling the streets or staging assaults on other worlds, that is."

I felt my lips curve up despite the frown pulling at my brows. It was a common enough question, I supposed, but for some reason I just couldn't wrap my tongue around an answer. What _did _I do for fun? Nothing, if I really considered it. Who the fuck had time for extracurricular activities with all the shit flying around lately?

Ukitake apparently did, I amended to myself, watching him settle deeper into the grass in his casually elegant gigai. It really wasn't fair that he could look so damn comfortable.

"I don't know," I grumbled, feeling a little put out and more than a little boring. "I used to get in a lot of fights, I guess."

"For fun?" he prompted, sounding merely curious.

"Not really," I admitted, the frown sinking deeper onto my face. "Mostly people just started shit with me 'cause of my hair or clothes."

"Hmm…" He seemed to digest this for a moment. "What about your friends? What do you do when you go out with them?"

"Well…" I blew out a breath, running a hand through my hair as I tried to remember the last time I'd done anything of the sort. "I've been kinda busy lately.

"Hmm…" he intoned again, sounding a little more serious. "You know, if you don't find time to unwind now and then, you run the risk of snapping under the tension."

"I know," I grumbled darkly, wishing it was as easy as it sounded.

I felt the weight settle a little heavier on my shoulders as I studied the chain between my fingers. There was nothing but concern in his tone, but it still felt like I was being scolded. Like I didn't have enough shit to deal with, now I had to worry that I wasn't having enough _fun_. Life was such bullshit sometimes.

"Kurosaki-kun," he said softly, and when I refocused I found him sitting up in the grass. "I meant no censure; I simply know the amount of strain you're carrying at the moment. Forgive me."

"Its whatever," I shrugged weakly, feeling more tired than I had in days.

He sighed softly, lips pulling into a rueful half smile. He beckoned me over with a vague wave of his hand and I slid reluctantly from the swing, closing the distance slowly. I stopped a couple feet away and he tilted his head back to stare up at me.

"We've all been where you are, in some way or another." His face was solemn, the tempered sadness lingering in his tone. "You're not as alone as you may feel sometimes."

I was silent for a moment, because I didn't know what to say. It was becoming a pretty common state for me, it seemed.

"Don't worry about me," I said finally, sounding sullen even to my own ears and swallowing around the faint lump in my throat. "I'm not gonna lose my shit anytime soon."

Barely visible lines creased the corners of his eyes as he smiled.

"Are you always so crass?" he inquired, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Huh?" I asked brilliantly, caught off guard by the change of pace.

"Your language," he clarified, lowering himself back into the grass. "Is it always so colorful?"

"Oh." I tried not to scowl as I wondered how to respond. The obvious answer was yes, of course, but I usually kept a better lid on myself when I was in _polite_ company. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he chuckled, letting his eyes slip closed. "It reminds me of Kaien, except he was never sorry for it. You should have more confidence."

I decided he was random as fuck sometimes, but his smile was contagious. I shook my head, dropping to sit next to him.

"What was he like?" I asked carefully, pulling up some grass from between my feet and shredding it absently. I wasn't sure it was the best topic, but it seemed to fit the mood and I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"He was fascinating," Ukitake said simply, catching a piece of grass as it slipped from my fingers. "He was like watching life flow by in a vaguely surly cage."

He laughed again, eyes warming to the memory.

"He believed wholeheartedly in everything he did, and it seemed like he was always moving, never still."

He turned the blade of grass, catching the faint glow from the park on its edge before releasing it, watching it drift on the stirring breeze until it finally disappeared into the tangle of the unkempt lawn. When I pulled my gaze back he was watching me again, a frown marring his otherwise tranquil face. His eyes slid shut as he turned once again toward the sky, and then he began to speak, about Kaien, about his division. There was nothing either heavy or frivolous in his tone, just warm remembrances of times gone by.

After awhile the lilting flow of his words slowed, winding to their inevitable close, and he asked me about my family. I figured that meant it was my turn to talk, so I gave it a shot, and after a little while the simplicity of it came easier. It had been a long time since I'd just sat around and talked about nothing important. It was kind of nice, even if it was with the last person on earth I would ever have expected. Fucked up world, but sometimes you just have to roll with it, I guess.

"It's getting late," he murmured, and I opened eyes I couldn't remember closing. "Or early, depending on your perspective."

He was sitting up again, having moved at some point during my overly long blink. The sky was starting to show the faintest traces of color in the east and I winced, realizing I had to be to school in a couple of hours.

"I shouldn't have kept you up," he apologized, having caught my expression.

"Don't worry about it," I assured him, my voice rough with sleep. "I would have kept myself up even if you weren't here."

He smiled faintly, rolling to his feet and offering me a hand. I let him pull me up, feeling exhausted and relaxed all at the same time. I blinked up at my unlikely companion, strangely reluctant to leave the first vaguely normal night I'd had in weeks.

"So, I guess you're gonna hit up that music thing tomorrow?" I nudged a rock with my foot.

"Tonight, actually," he corrected, untying his hair and running his fingers through it, "and yes, that was the plan."

"Oh," I felt a sense of disappointment stir in my chest and pushed it aside, because there was no reason for it to be there. "Well, have fun."

He paused in the act of retying his hair, eyeing me a little too shrewdly, as though sensing my hesitance. I let my face relax, meeting his gaze for a second before turning toward home.

"I'll see you around," I offered over my shoulder, bending to retrieve Zangetsu.

"Kurosaki-kun."

He'd taken a couple steps toward me, his fingers deftly winding the leather back into place. He looked like he was mulling something over for a heartbeat or two, and then his face softened.

"There's a good chance I'll be wandering down that same street again tonight," he said absently, eyes sliding over me briefly. "Should we by chance meet again, though, it would be more convenient if you were in your body. That way I wouldn't appear to be talking to myself, should we happen into a more public venue."

"Um, okay," I ventured slowly, unsure if that qualified as an actual invitation.

He didn't elaborate, just gave me a final, fleeting smile and a moment later turned to stroll back through the trees. I watched him go, trying unsuccessfully to guess at his thoughts, before shaking my head and turning on my heel toward home.

Just gotta roll with it sometimes...


	2. Tuesday

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who left such nice reviews, I really appreciated the feedback and hopefully you'll all enjoy the next installment. Always remember, in the world of fanfiction reviews=love=faster turnaround on chapters. It's a strange equation, but you can't argue with math!

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><p><strong>Tuesday – <strong>

_**~ "What is hope, except the thread that guides us when all other lights go out...?" ~**_

I shifted irritably against the bite of cold brick, wondering for the hundredth time what the fuck I was doing there. School had been a mess. I was exhausted most of the day and for some reason it seemed like everything was going out of its way to be more irritating than usual. I'd heard people say that when you're young, you're supposed to bounce back easy from things like staying out all night. Well fuck that, apparently I couldn't bounce for shit because I kept drifting off in class and getting snapped at. Maybe it doesn't work if you're already pushing the limits most of time.

By the time I dragged my ass home I'd decided to stay in for the night. Ukitake didn't need me fucking up his free time and I wasn't so desperate for friends that I had to bother a near stranger. I finished my homework in record time, then grabbed a little food and went to bed before it was even dark. It was all well and good until I woke up a couple hours later and couldn't get back to sleep. It was always harder for me to sleep at night; too many things that could be wrong without someone out there to keep an eye on them. I rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. At least I wasn't so tired anymore. Small victories.

I almost decided to stay home _again_ after five minutes of digging though my closet. I didn't have any idea where Ukitake was planning to go, and I didn't own anything even half as nice as what he was wearing the night before. I may not have been some pretty-boy wannabe, but I usually gave at least half a thought to not looking like a total fuck-up. I finally gave up and grabbed a T-shirt and jeans. It was a nice T-shirt, a black and red design from a solid brand, but it wasn't going to win me any awards. I slid on a heavy, riveted belt and sighed. Really fucking original but whatever, it was what I always looked like and everyone knew it. Except that he wasn't my friend, he _didn't_ know me, and he'd probably never seen me outside of being a Shinigami. Dammit.

Thinking too long about clothes made me feel like a girl, so I just pulled on my shoes and headed out the door. If I stood out then that's just the way life went. Not like it would be the first time. Not like it was even uncommon. Still, I kind of liked the thought of having another _normal_ night, where no one was fucking with me or giving me weird looks.

I got there early and started to feel awkward almost immediately. It wasn't like there was a real plan or anything. I didn't know when he was going to show up, or even _if_ he was going to show up. Technically, he hadn't really asked me to come along at all, more just informed me of his plans, and even that was pretty vague. Ten minutes passed and I started to feel pretty edgy, leaning against the wall while people milled by, waiting on some unknown bullshit. I started to pull at the hem of my shirt but forced myself to leave it alone, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes and wondering how the fuck I could manage to feel so out of place just leaning against a damn wall.

"Are you always this high strung, Kurosaki-kun?"

I snatched my hands away and found Ukitake eying me critically, having materialized seemingly from nowhere while I was otherwise engaged. I started to scowl but drew up short, blinking at him in surprise. He was wearing an intricately patterned orange and grey T-shirt over black long sleeves, and looking more comfortable in it than I would have. Dumbfounded, my gaze slid higher, stalling out completely when I noticed that his hair was pulled back and the glow from a streetlight was glimmering faintly off a pair of dark studs resting casually in his ears. It was fucking surreal.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said dryly, lips twitching into a half smile.

"Sorry," I muttered, scowling for real that time. "You look…different."

He chuckled lightly, pushing his sleeves halfway up his forearms. "It seemed reasonable to assume you'd be somewhat _dressed down_."

I probably should have been grateful, but my thoughts were a little fucked, and then his earrings caught the light again which only made it worse. Was this seriously happening?

For his part, he just shook his head in amusement, shoving his hands into a pair of dark jeans and starting off down the street. I jogged a couple steps to catch up, matching his easy pace as he wandered toward downtown. Along the way, I kept shooting him surreptitious glances, trying to sort through my tangled perceptions. Like the fact that I recognized the brands he was wearing. They were expensive but definitely human, yet I couldn't for the life of me picture him doing anything as mundane as going to a mall. It was just too weird.

"You seem somewhat perplexed by my ability to dress myself." He was watching me from the corner of his eye with an air of amused exasperation. "I assure you, I've been doing it for quite some time now, with a relative degree of success."

I rolled my eyes as some of the surprise started to fade, and felt his smile creeping onto my lips.

"You look so normal," I grumbled half-heartedly, starting to feel more at peace than I had all day.

"I'll take that as a complement," he grinned, looking vaguely pleased with himself.

I just snorted and kept walking. It was weird how comfortable I felt, wandering the darkened streets with a cleverly disguised Shinigami who might be older than the whole fucking town. Hell, it was probably even weirder that I was more at ease with someone I hardly knew than with most of the friends I'd grown up with, but what could I really do about it? He had a natural sort of calm that seemed to permeate anything in his general vicinity.

"Are you hungry?" He asked conversationally, glancing up at a passing street sign.

I started to say no, but realized I was. What little I'd eaten before falling into bed was already wearing off.

"I don't know what's open." I frowned. It was well after nine and I didn't usually eat that late.

He glanced at a watch set into a thick leather cuff on his wrist. "Would you prefer traditional or something a little more exotic?"

"What kind of exotic?" I asked curiously, having little experience with anything beyond Japanese and the occasional burger.

He paused on the street-corner and tapped his lips thoughtfully, checking the time again. "French?"

"Where the hell are you gonna find French food?" I asked incredulously. I'd never even _seen _a French restaurant in town.

"Ciel du Soir," he answered easily, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He seemed to think this was sufficient explanation because he set off again and I just shrugged and fell into step, so I guess maybe he was right. Somehow I'd always pictured French restaurants as some fancy little world full of nice clothes and romantic couples, but he didn't seem concerned by either the way we were dressed or the fact that we definitely weren't a couple. I figured I probably knew shit about French restaurants and decided to keep my mouth shut.

When we stopped a little while later I was glad I'd stayed quiet. The building didn't look dirty or uninviting but it was really plain, with little more than a striped awning and a sign to set it apart from its surroundings. The few people inside looked pretty casual, and didn't give us a second glance as we slid into a table. Ukitake called it a bistro, whatever the hell that meant, and set about explaining French food to me. I ended up just letting him order, because it turned out I really _did_ know shit about French restaurants.

"Did you enjoy your classes today?" he asked pleasantly, once the waiter had disappeared.

"Um…" I wasn't used to hearing that question with such positive phrasing. "Sure?"

"You weren't too tired?" he modified, looking amused again.

"Oh. I was a little tired, but it's whatever," I shrugged it off. "I slept a bit earlier, so I'm fine now."

"I'm relieved to hear that." His eyes shone faintly. "I would hate to feel responsible for impacting your nocturnal wanderings."

He looked completely sincere, but I could feel the tease of dry humor in his words. One of my eyebrows slid up and the corner of his mouth lifted in response.

"I understand you time is somewhat stretched these days," he continued, looking more reflective. "It would be a shame to see your studies suffer, though I fear there may be little help for it at times."

"I actually do pretty well in school," I disclosed grudgingly, because he seemed genuinely concerned.

"Then I'm relieved, again," he said quietly, and this time there was no teasing.

The waiter caught his attention as he returned to the table, presenting a bottle of wine for Ukitake's inspection. He nodded his consent, allowing a glass to be poured and waited for the man to leave before raising it, inhaling slowly. He took a sip, letting it roll on his tongue with a small smile.

"I'll probably regret this later," he admitted with a sigh, taking another sip.

I gave him a blank look and he shook his head ruefully.

"Alcohol aggravates my condition at times," he clarified, setting the glass back on the table.

I winced, remembering what I'd heard about him coughing up blood. It sounded rough, and pretty fucked up.

"It's not contagious," he assured me, having misinterpreted my expression. "I understand it can be in humans, but you needn't worry around me."

"I don't care about that," I said dismissively, and it was true, I'd never even thought about it. "Just sounds like it sucks."

"It does," he replied, though he seemed entertained by my phrasing, "but I've learned to live with it."

I watched him spin the stem of his glass gently between his fingers and felt sad in the knowledge that no matter how many battles we won, he'd never truly be free.

"There's nothing anyone can do?" It was a stupid question because of course they would have already tried.

His eyes softened and he raised the glass to his lips again, choosing to remain silent. It upset me more than it should have. I was tired of it all; of everything just being so unfair. Good people suffered, bad people won; it was all bullshit. It made me feel hopeless and tired and angry all in the same breath.

"Kurosaki-kun."

His elbows were resting on the table, chin propped against laced fingers as he regarded me with quiet understanding.

"Stop thinking about it," he ordered softly, calm acceptance drifting through his aura. "There is nothing you can do, and I came to terms with it long ago. It's not as dire as you may assume; I do still manage to entertain myself on occasion."

He smiled at me with a tranquil sort of grace and I tried not to look so unsettled, even though it still ate at me.

"Tell me about your classes," he prompted, after a second or two of my continued silence.

I knew he was just trying to change the subject, but it didn't really matter. It was his business anyway, and if he didn't want to talk about it then I didn't have the right to push. I grumbled a little about what we were studying and he seemed to find it more interesting than I ever did. By the time our food came I was talking more freely, and he looked like he wished he could pass for a student. He really did get a kick out of the weirdest shit.

I eyed my plate critically for a moment, taking in the foreign presentation and combination of smells. Ukitake said it was chicken in wine sauce, and that sounded okay, even if it looked a little weird. I had limit exposure to eating with a fork and knife, but I knew how to use them so I gave it a shot. It wasn't bad at all, kind of rich and definitely different. I took another bite and it really started to grow on me.

"What do you think?" He asked, after I'd had a few minutes to mull things over.

"It's good," I admitted, sounding more than a little surprised.

He laughed. "I'm glad it meets with your approval."

He kept up a light conversation as we ate and I found, with much less surprise this time, that he was easy to talk to. When the check came, he waved off my attempts to pay for myself, saying he really didn't mind and that it wasn't a problem. I felt weird about it, but after a couple of failed argument it became clear that he wasn't going to budge. Fuck, there wasn't much I _could _do because he was already signing the credit card slip by that point. I followed him back into the night, still grumbling faintly about being paid for.

"I have very few expenses, Kurosaki-kun," he said gently, glancing over at me while we walked. "Human money is of no use to me in Seireitei, and I so rarely find time to myself anymore."

"Where do you even get money?" I asked, a brow lifting in question as I caught his eye.

He just smiled, but didn't reply. It was sort of a rude question really, but he didn't look upset, merely amused. I didn't apologize, but I let it drop. For all I know, the Shinigami picked money off a damn tree somewhere.

It was less than five minutes before he drew up in front of an ordinary looking building, staring at the sign as if to verify he was in the right place. It looked like a bar, and I wondered briefly if I'd have trouble getting in, but there was no one at the door, and no one bothered us as we wandered toward a circular booth. Ukitake slid into the seat, making room as I followed, scoping out the unfamiliar territory. Somewhere just out of view, I could hear the faint whine of instruments being tuned, but the low hum of voices still dominated the room.

"Would you care for a drink, Kurosaki-kun?" Ukitake offered politely as one of the servers passed.

"You mean like alcohol or just anything?" I asked, curious in spite of myself.

"Either way," he shrugged, as though he made no real distinction.

"You _do_ know I'm underage, right?" I clarified further, because I really wasn't sure if he did.

"Of course," he said simply, looking not at all put out by the fact.

I frowned a little, not because it upset me, but because I'd always pictured him as more straight-laced.

"You don't think it's wrong to buy me alcohol?" I asked curiously. "I heard you were sorta strict when it came to moral shit."

He sighed, leaning his head back against the booth and closing his eyes.

"You're confusing morality with legality," he explained softly, shifting a little to get more comfortable. "And while I do admittedly strive to maintain a personal moral code, there are times when it varies from, or even comes into direct conflict with, what may or may not be legal."

I remembered the whole thing with Rukia, where he and Kyouraku-taichou had, in fact, defied a great number of Soul Society's laws to do what they felt was right. That was one of the things I'd really admired about them, because it was pretty much how I did things, too.

"Take this situation, for instance," he continued. "While I would find it somewhat disconcerting to provide liquor to someone as young as yourself, I also see a degree of hypocrisy in stating that someone is mature enough to risk their life in defense of the world and yet not mature enough to make their own decisions regarding something as mundane as drinking."

There was a certain logic to what he said; one I couldn't really argue with.

"So old enough to die, old enough to drink?" I muttered, drawing his gaze as he rolled his head against the booth to look at me.

"I sincerely wish there was an age limit on death," he said, sounding wistfully sad. "And, though I'm not overly fond of your phrasing, that is the general idea."

He gave me a tired smile and I was reminded of the sheer amount of shit he must have seen in his long life.

"I don't drink," I told him quietly, feeling strangely solemn.

"Then I needn't bother with my conflicted feelings." His smile grew warmer as the first chords of music drifted through the air.

I was surprised again when I caught the next strain, because I'd pictured him as a classical person, or classic rock at best, but apparently that wasn't the case. I really needed to stop making random fucking assumptions about him.

I didn't have an easy description for what was playing, but the closest I could come in my head was that it was like heavy metal with cellos. There were other instruments, too, normal shit like guitars and drums, but there were also definitely cellos. It was different than anything I'd ever heard, but it actually sounded pretty good. I blinked, turning back to face him.

"I have a rather broad taste in music," he admitted, laughing at my surprise. "I find the variety refreshing."

"Okay," I said, because I hadn't found anything more useful to say.

"What do you think of it?" He was still chuckling at me with that look of easy fondness.

"I like it," I decided. "It's different."

He seemed pleased with that, leaning back and closing his eyes again as he began to explain the details of the genre. The more he said the more animated he became, his hands rising now and then to illustrate some point. He was moving slightly in time with the rhythm, and I began to understand that his fondness for music transcended simple enjoyment. Music touched him on some deeper lever, like a primal language he could feel on the air. A languid smile lingered on his lips as the tension began to slide from his body, drifting away on the curling beat.

By the time we'd been there an hour he seemed like an entirely different person, alive and glowing with a faint flush of excitement. I caught myself staring a couple times, because it was just so unreal. Ukitake Juushiro, usually stoic captain, looking completely casual in a T-shirt and jeans and swaying in time with the music.

The third time around he was the one who caught me, turning to watch me lazily through half lowered lashes. Short strands of hair were escaping their tie, falling into eyes that were dark and dilated under the weight of the music, and maybe the wine. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he tipped his head in silent question.

I felt the heat crawl into my cheeks for no fucking reason at all, but I couldn't think of anything to say while he still had that look on his face. One dark brow crept gently upward, and I caught the faint sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. I frowned, and he watched with mild interest as I slid closer to press the backs of my fingers against his forehead.

"You're warm," I muttered, my childhood spent in a clinic bubbling to the surface.

"I told you I'd regret the wine," he reminded me softly, catching my wrist to drag my hand away. "It was worth it, though."

From my closer perspective I could see the faint lines of fatigue starting to show on his face, though his smile remained relaxed.

"Do you need something?" I asked in concern. "I'll get some water."

I started to rise but he tugged on my wrist, pulling me back into the seat.

"I'll be fine, Kurosaki-kun," he assured me, dark eyes warming as they moved over my face. "I appreciate your concern, but I understand my condition far too well. I have another hour or so in me before I'll have to leave."

He stared at me for a moment, giving my wrist a little squeeze before releasing me. He settled deeper into the booth, leaning his head back again, though he made no move to put more space between us. I leaned back, too, but I knew I was still frowning, mostly at my inability to do a fucking thing to help.

He was right with his timing, it turned out. About an hour later the fatigue was really starting to show and he finally relented, sliding from his seat and heading reluctantly for the door. I followed a couple steps behind, letting the final strains of music wash over me as I stepped into the cool, night air.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" He asked me quietly, making his way through the empty streets.

"Yeah," I confessed, feeling completely relaxed. "It was nice to do something normal for a little while."

He smiled, seeming to like the assessment, and continued down the sidewalk. We made it a few more steps before he paused, shoulders shaking slightly as he coughed into his sleeve. He raised his other hand to forestall my concern, and managed to drag himself under control in a second or two. He shook his head in exasperation and shot me a tired look.

"Perhaps the wine wasn't worth it after all," he conceded. "It's a shame we had to leave before they finished."

"You could try tomorrow," I suggested, but he shook his head.

"I have other plans tomorrow," he informed me, the smile returning to his lips. "Ones I'd rather not forgo."

"Oh, that's cool, then." I shrugged; starting to get that same fucking dejected feeling I'd had the night before. I pushed it down irritably, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Do you have any interest in keeping me company again?" He asked casually, though there was a shrewd edge to his tone that made me drop my eyes.

I shrugged again. "I don't want to be a problem."

"I wouldn't ask you if you were," he assured me gently, and I felt a little lighter, even though it was fucking ridiculous.

Teenage emotions were such bullshit.

"Okay."

I knew he could hear the smile in my voice, and I didn't even care. Fuck it, I'm allowed to be happy once in a while, even if it's over weird-ass shit like hanging out with Ukitake. We parted ways a couple of minutes later, him heading off into the darkness, and me making my way toward home. It was such a normal night that I could almost forget what lay ahead, and maybe in the end that had been the point. His escape had become my escape, and I was glad for the relief, however brief it might be. Soon enough it would all fall apart, and sometimes you just had to take what you could get.


	3. Wednesday

**A/N: **So…for those of you giving this story a chance, thank you for all the nice feedback. I always appreciate hearing what people think, and welcome any thoughts or reviews you have after this next chapter, as well.

Off you go…

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday – <strong>

_**~ "If you stare into the night sky long enough, sometimes your true self smiles back." ~**_

In some ways the third night was easier, and in others it was worse. It was easier because I didn't feel even half so awkward. I still had no idea where we were going, but at least I knew I was invited, which really did make a world of difference in the end. I also knew that he had at least a fundamental understanding of how I dressed, even though I had no fucking idea how, so I was less worried about feeling completely out of place. I actually felt pretty average for once; getting ready to go out, like someone with a normal social life and friends I really did shit with. Fucking weird.

It was harder, though, because I was starting to realize that I really, _really_ wanted to go. I don't mean _wanted_ like how you look forward to a movie release because you think it might be cool as shit; I mean _wanted_ like how you hear people talk about a day off after an 80 hour week. Like I _needed_ it or something. It worried me a little because I didn't like feeling so reliant on something, especially when it depended on another person. I also couldn't figure out if it was the simple act of getting away or Ukitake himself that I was so drawn to, but I had a vague suspicion it was the latter. I didn't really know what to feel about that either, because I didn't know what it meant, though it didn't seem like a particularly good thing.

None of that kept me inside, of course, but I did mull it over in a half-assed sort of way until I turned down the now familiar street. He was waiting for me that time, looking as casual as he had the night before. He'd forgone the long-sleeves, and his skin looked pale against the dark hues of a different T-shirt. He smiled as I approached, and I shook my head vaguely, still a bit thrown off by the whole thing. He was wearing a thick leather strap around his neck with what looked like a stylized Quincy Cross hanging from it, and the earrings were back, flashing dully. Ishida would probably have been pissed, but he looked like a fucking rockstar. Seriously, he could have had business cards printed: Ukitake Juushiro, Fucking Rockstar! It just wasn't fair.

"Lovely evening," he offered, glancing up at the sky.

"Um…yeah," I agreed dimly, still stewing over why he made a better human than I did.

"Shall we?" He gestured to the street, eyes dancing with amusement. I always got the feeling that knew what I was thinking. It was a little disconcerting.

I let him set the pace as we started to walk, mostly because I had no idea where we were going. I would have let him lead anyway, though, because I liked his unhurried gate. That easy, stress-free roll was relaxing.

"That's a Quincy Cross, right?" I still sucked at small talk, but I was improving gradually as I got more practice.

"It is," he said fondly, reaching up to touch it. "It was a gift from a very long time ago, before the rift between our people."

"That must have been a _really_ long time ago," I muttered with a degree of wonder, trying to remember what I knew about their history. Shinigami ageing messed with my head sometimes.

"You make me feel so delightfully old on occasion," he laughed, looking thoroughly entertained.

"Sorry," I mumbled, even though I knew it wasn't required.

"I wish you wouldn't be," he said with a chuckle. "I assure you, I really don't mind."

He brushed away a lock of hair that had escaped its tie, tucking it behind his ear.

"You don't really wear earrings, do you?" His movements had drawn my eye and I just couldn't remember from the few times I'd seen him. Somehow it seemed unlikely.

"You mean outside of a gigai?" He asked, glancing at me curiously.

"Um…yeah," I clarified, realizing my phrasing could use work, because he was _obviously _wearing them right then. I needed a fucking book on conversation, or something.

"No, I don't," He slid his fingers over one of the studs, tugging it gently. "Not anymore."

That caught my interest. "You used to?"

"Quite a long time ago," he chuckled faintly. "I gave them up shortly after I joined the academy. Shunsui always said they made me look _rakish_, which I believe he meant as a compliment, but it seemed like the wrong impression for what I was trying to achieve at the time. I cared a great deal more for what people thought of me then."

He shook his head fondly, but he looked a little sad. He always seemed more tired when he thought back on easier times.

"I like them," I admitted, because it was true and it seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

"Thank you," he said, his voice warming slightly. "I do miss them sometimes, even if they are a bit _rakish_."

I rolled my eyes as he laughed again. Rakish wasn't the word I'd have chosen, but I sure as fuck wasn't going to supply the one that flashed through my head. Somehow, telling another guy that his earrings were kinda sexy seemed like it sent the wrong message. Seriously. I didn't know where I came up with this shit, but it did fit, and I wasn't so insecure that I needed to freak out for having thought it.

We stopped for food - Japanese this time - and I guess he didn't want to push his luck because he stuck with tea. He asked me about school again, and about my family and friends. I asked him about the plans for Aizen, but he told me about his academy life instead. It was a little frustrating. I didn't like to be left out, but I didn't get the feeling he meant it that way. He just didn't want to talk about it right then, because it was stressful and there were no real answers.

I only grumbled half as much when he paid that time. It was a losing battle and I didn't have much money anyway because I didn't have a job. Scratch that; technically I suppose being a Shinigami was pretty much like a job, you just didn't get paid for it. No wonder Superman had a day-job, and Batman needed a trust fund; hero work pays for shit.

We finally wandered out into the night and I tipped my head back, staring up at the clouds moving silently by.

"I enjoy the night," he said softly, following my gaze. "I enjoy the sun as well; the glow of the world and the warmth on my skin, but there's something inherently wild in the darkness. Wild and calming all at the same time."

A lot of people were afraid of the dark, but I knew what he meant. There was just as much shit that could kill you during the day, so it was really more about perspective than anything.

"Yeah," I murmured, still watching the clouds as we walked." Everything feels different at night, like I'm a different person."

"It can feel that way sometimes," he agreed reflectively, and I turned to find him watching me. "It can be dangerous at times."

I frowned softly, feeling like I was missing something. "Dangerous how?"

His eyebrow twitched faintly, but he just smiled and shook his head. "Only in that it requires you to understand yourself."

I didn't really know what he meant and wondered if he was just being random again. He didn't seem overly concerned, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking around to get his bearings.

I recognized the area. We were heading into one of the local night scenes, and there was a decent crowd milling around. We passed a long line of people waiting in a roped off queue for access to Sol, one of the more exclusive nightclubs. I'd heard of the place, it was really popular and always busy. I figured it must be fucking crazy on the weekends if that was the turnout on a Wednesday night. I faltered as Ukitake turned, heading toward the door at the front of the line.

"I can't go in there," I said incredulously, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Yes you can," he assured me, giving me a curious look. "There's no dress code."

"No, I mean it's not an underage club," I explained, shaking my head in exasperation. "I can't get in."

"Yes, you can," he repeated with a smile, blithely ignoring my concerns.

I gave him a dubious look as he approached the bouncer, lagging a couple steps behind and trying to look inconspicuous. He said something to the man, too low for me to hear over the crowd, and the guy started to move the rope but drew up short at the sight of me.

"Does he have ID?" He asked, giving me a narrow look.

"No," Ukitake supplied helpfully, and I just shook my head again.

"Then he can't come in," the guy said flatly.

"Yes, he can," Ukitake assured him easily, like the guy was just going to take his word for it.

The guy gave him a weird look, like he thought the whole thing might be a joke or something, but he didn't move and he didn't smile. Ukitake sighed faintly, digging into his pocket.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," he said sincerely, sliding open an expensive looking cell phone. "If you'll give me a moment, I'll have this all sorted out."

He began rapidly pressing keys as the bouncer blinked skeptically. I blinked at him, too, but it was more because he had a cell phone and that just seemed weird to me.

"I don't care if you have Zeus on fucking speed dial, he's not getting in without ID," the guy growled, glaring at me like I'd started the shit.

"What are you doing?" I asked blankly, watching Ukitake slide the phone back into his pocket.

"Messaging someone to get this cleared up," he replied conversationally, studying the crowd as he waited.

"…huh," I said doubtfully, trying to ignore the bouncer's continued glare.

Several of the people in line were watching us now, with varying degrees of interest. A couple of girls in barely-there dresses were trying to catch Ukitake's attention, but he seemed blissfully unaware. Further back, a little knot of people were talking about me, if the direction of their gestures and muffled snickering was any indication. Apparently they knew I shouldn't be there, even if Ukitake didn't seem to. I shoved my hands into my pockets and turned away. They could go fuck themselves.

"I didn't mean for you to be uncomfortable," Ukitake said quietly, looking apologetic.

"It's whatever," I grumbled, shrugging it off. I was used to ignoring shit like that.

"I should have called ahead to avoid the scene," he murmured, brows pulling together as he studied my frown. "I didn't realize they'd been hiring recently."

He spared a glance at the bouncer, looking vaguely put out, and I felt the corner of my mouth curl as I shrugged again.

"Calling ahead doesn't make me older," I pointed out dryly.

"I'm aware." His eyes danced faintly. "It simply sidesteps the issue entirely."

As if in response to his thoughts, the door behind the bouncer swung open and a well-groomed man in a really nice suit poked his head out to glance around. He spotted Ukitake and blanched, quickly schooling his features as he stepped outside. Smoothing his hands over his already perfect hair, he slipped around the stunned bouncer with a muttered curse and lifted the rope out of his way.

"Ukitake-san, we weren't expecting you," he said smoothly, bowing slightly at the waist.

"I apologize for my lack of foresight, Katsuo-san," Ukitake smiled. "Would you mind if we went inside, it's getting a bit dull out here."

"Of course," Katsuo didn't miss a beat, stepping aside and gesturing toward the still open door. "Please, after you."

"The kid ain't got ID, boss." The bouncer had apparently recovered sufficiently to complain.

"Yes, he does," Katsou gave him a hard look, "and it says he can go inside."

"Don't be too harsh, Katsou-san," Ukitake chided gently. "I rather admire his dedication to the job."

He gave the guy an approving nod as he glided by, and I followed in his wake feeling a little dazed. Maybe he really did have those _Fucking Rockstar_ cards.

The music engulfed us as we passed through the door, pulsing low and thick through the too warm air. I'd only been to a couple clubs, mostly when my friends forced me, but those were all underage; full of hyper, frenetic techno. The music in Sol was different somehow; wilder, more complicated and sensual. Fuck, maybe I _was_ too young to be there.

"What the fuck just happened?" I demanded, after Ukitake had exchanged a few words with a thoroughly apologetic Katsuo.

He chuckled at my outburst, weaving his way toward the bar.

"We entered the club," he informed me sagely.

I gave him my best flat stare and he flashed me a grin.

"I'm part owner of this establishment," he admitted, his smile going slightly sheepish. "Silent, of course."

"You fucking own the place?" Random-ass bullshit, all the fucking time.

"Partially," he corrected, eyes shining with amusement as he continued forward.

I forced my mouth back shut and just followed him toward the bar. I think I was starting to become desensitized to his shit, or maybe I was just in shock. What the fuck did I know about Shinigami involvement in the human world anyway? For all I knew they all owned nightclubs; maybe they owned all sorts of shit, who the fuck could say anymore. In some warped way I found it easier to accept him owning a business than standing around texting someone on a fucking cell phone.

Yeah, it was probably shock.

"You look perplexed, Kurosaki-kun," he pointed out helpfully as I slid onto a stool, leaning a little closer to be heard over the music.

I turned, trying to sort out where to begin and found him watching me with open amusement, cheek resting against his fist and elbow propped on the bar. I let out the breath I was holding as I felt his smile slide over my face, dragging the last of my frown lose. Three days ago I hadn't known jack-shit about him - outside of my vague impressions of him as a captain - so I didn't know why I was always so surprised. Fuck, I was probably the last person on earth that should be making assumptions about people based on how they looked.

"You have a cell phone," I grumbled half-heartedly, shaking my head in exasperation.

"I do," he agreed with a chuckle.

"And you own a club," I pointed out, smiling a little more despite myself. It was kind of refreshing to feel so fucking ridiculous about shit that couldn't kill me for once.

"Part of a club,' he corrected, looking delighted by my unexpected reaction.

"That's fucked up, isn't it?" I honestly didn't know anymore. "I mean, it _seems_ fucked up."

He laughed. "Not as much as you might imagine. It's not terribly common among the Shinigami, but it's by no means unheard of."

I just shook my head, realizing there was a whole world of shit I knew fuck-all about, and somehow Ukitake always seemed to be in the middle of it. A bartender materialized from somewhere, and Ukitake slid her a credit card to open a tab, ordering some mineral water while I daringly opted for a Coke.

"Do you really have to pay for stuff here?" I asked after she left the drinks. I didn't know how owning a business worked with shit like that.

"No," he admitted, looking unconcerned. "But I don't care for the attention that either explaining myself or calling Katsuo would bring."

I shrugged, because it really didn't matter, and I knew what it was like to want to blend in sometimes.

"You just want to be left alone," I muttered, more to myself than to him, but he heard me anyway.

"Sometimes," he confessed, spinning his bottle lightly between his fingers, eyes roaming over my face. "By most people, that is."

He smiled softly, and I didn't have any reply because something in his look stilled my words. A couple of days ago I might have thought he meant me; that I was imposing my presence when he only wanted solitude, but recognized now that it wasn't the case. For whatever the reason, he enjoyed my company. I'd seen enough by now to know that, at least.

"I guess I know what you mean," I said finally, and realized, with very little surprise, that he was on my list of exceptions as well.

"I know you do." The smile in his eyes deepened, but it was different somehow, and I couldn't quite place it.

I felt my brows pull in faint confusion, not quite a frown as I stared back at him. There was a whisper of a question at the edge of my mind, but I couldn't find the words to make the thought real. I watched his lips curve higher, and dragged my eyes up, searching his gaze for some unknown answer. He tilted his head faintly, and I found myself smiling, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Maybe it wasn't important, though something told me it was.

Ukitake looked away first, taking a drink of his water and sighing an amused sound against the rim of the bottle. He spun on his stool, reclining against the bar, watching the crush of bodies sway to the low, pulsing beat. He was silent for awhile and so was I, lost in a sort of quiet camaraderie.

"Do you dance, Kurosaki-kun?" His voice has a smooth, heavy quality to it as he watched the pack in the half-lit room.

"Not well," I grumbled, turning to look at him.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, his lashes drooping low as he slid against the bar under the call of the driving beat. His teeth dragged lazily across his lip, the hint of a smile curling slow, as though he could taste the music on the air. He caught my gaze from the corner of his eye.

"Would you care to give it a try?"

"I think I'll pass for now," I muttered dryly, shaking my head at his fucking random twists.

"It's an amazing source of stress relief," he encouraged, smirking faintly as I rolled my eyes.

"I'll fucking survive." Embarrassing myself in a crowd of strangers didn't sound very therapeutic. "Go by yourself, if you think it's so great."

"Suit yourself." He slid from his stool, drifting gracefully into the surging crowd.

I lost track of him after a moment or two and turned back to the bar, shaking my head. It still blew my mind how different he could be, away from the structure of Soul Society; free from the scrutiny and duty-bound roles. I kind of liked it. I liked _him._

"You want another?" The bartender had paused in front of me, gesturing to my now empty glass.

"Sure," I shrugged, watching the ice shift a little. "Coke."

"I know," she muttered, reaching to retrieve the glass. "Aren't you a little young to be in here?"

"I made it through the door, didn't I?" I was drinking Coke, for fuck sake, what did it matter?

"I get the feeling you had some help with that." She gave me a pointed look.

Great, nothing said fun like the _concerned adult_ tone. Dancing suddenly seemed like it might have been the less irritating option.

"Can I just get the Coke?" I asked evenly, trying not to scowl.

Her eyes narrowed as she held a nozzle over the glass. She looked like she was stewing on some retort when something behind me caught her attention. Her finger slid from the trigger as her lips parted slightly, staring fixedly over my left shoulder.

"Wow…," she whispered, dripping Coke onto my hand as the nozzle trembled.

I swore under my breath, shooting her a glare as I raised my hand to my lips, catching a rolling drop. I dragged the glass away from her, turning on my stool to see what the fuck was so interesting. I froze, sucking in a breath as my eyes went wide.

The mass of people had shifted, and in their midst, though seemingly apart, Ukitake was dancing. It was like the music was an extension of his body, like his movements created it rather than followed its flow. The pulse of the bass throbbed low and hard, but he matched its glide with effortless grace and an air of wild, elated abandon. His head fell back; eyes sliding closed, like nothing else in the world existed.

People were openly watching him now, but the few who approached, like moths to a flame, soon fell away like they couldn't stand his heat. Focusing harder I saw the flicker of reiatsu, tracing over his body, keeping them at bay. His hand rose through it and it slid between his fingers, stirring in the air like threads of light and shadow. A smile creased his lips and I felt dazed; he was like a force of fucking nature and all he was doing was dancing.

I felt something twist as I had a rare moment of self-awareness, which always seemed to come at the shittiest times. I realized, on some level at least, that I was attracted to him and I had absolutely no idea what to make of it. I also realized, with a degree of chagrin, that I wasn't nearly as upset as I probably should have been, all things considered. I didn't know what to make of that, either. I'd never been attracted to a guy before, but it seemed like a world of trouble I just didn't need right then. I pushed back hard against the surge of recognition, resolving to not be awkward until that shit went away.

The smile on his lips pulled a little brighter and I met his gaze, locked on me from across the room. I dropped my eyes, cursing under my breath at having been caught, raising the glass to my lips just for something to do. I felt him draw nearer without having to look and a surreptitious glance confirmed my fears. I cursed again, but a smirk was dragging at the corner of my mouth and I wondered why I didn't feel more embarrassed than I did.

"Have you changed your mind, Kurosaki-kun?" He slid into the space in front of me, amusement shivering low through his tone.

"No," I muttered, dragging my eyes up. "I was just…"

The smartass retort died in my throat, lost to a moment of electric surprise. The exertion had burned a flush beneath his normally pale skin, and his breath stirred panting over slightly parted lips. I couldn't remember him ever looking so alive. The reiatsu was still spinning faintly around him and I shifted my hand, letting it slide between my fingers as I'd seen him do. It tingled against my skin and I shivered, loosing whatever thought had been swirling in my head.

"I…," What the fuck do you say when you can't even think?

His teeth dragged slowly over his lower lip and he tilted his head.

"Dance with me, Kurosaki." His eyes glittered dark beneath the fall of his lashes, his voice thick as honey in the heat of the air.

"Uhh…I don't…I just…"

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, still unsure of how I was supposed to respond. There was something in the air, in the music, in darkness and it whispered it's longing up the back of my neck. I wanted that freedom, wanted it badly, to catch a taste of the things burning wild in his eyes. The pull of the need was a little bit frightening. I could feel my pulse thundering hard in my chest, the moment's indecision striping the words from my tongue.

He slid a little closer, pulling the glass from my strangely limp fingers, reaching around to set it on the bar. A smile flickered lazily as he towed me to my feet, staring down at me with music-drugged intensity.

"Dance with me," he repeated softly, stilling the protests half-formed on my lips.

"Yeah," I breathed, because it was all I could say.

He hummed his approval and turned, keeping a hold of my wrist, leading me smoothly into the surge of the crowd. We wove through the writhing mass of bodies until the crush started to ease, thinning out near the back of the room. He released me, turning to catch my gaze with languid, dark eyes.

The music flowed seamlessly into a complex, rolling rhythm and he followed it effortlessly, as though he could see it on the air. I hardly ever danced, and almost never willingly, so I could feel the strain on my body when I finally forced it to move. I felt my frown forming as I tried to catch the rhythm, but there was something strangely elusive in its heavy, pounding drive. I let my eyes slip closed, concentrating on my movements, trying to keep from looking as awkward as I felt.

"Stop thinking about it," Ukitake urged, moving a little closer so I could hear him over the noise. "Try to relax."

"I'm a shit dancer," I grumbled, trying to do what he said but not knowing how.

"I've seen you fight." He was closer still. "I've seen the grace with which you can move."

His hands slid over my hips and I faltered half a step, but his fingers dug in slightly to keep me in motion.

"Think of the music as living thing." His hands pressed gently and I tried to follow his lead. "Let your insight guide you in how you should respond."

I felt the heat creep into my cheeks as his body brushed against me, but even though I tensed I didn't pull away. My heart pounded in time with the pulse of the beat, and his hands glided over me to keep me in step. His lashes swept low as his lips curled up and somewhere inside I felt something start to slip. I let my eyes fall shut as I gave in to his rhythm, letting him move me on a path only he could see.

"Stay with me, Kurosaki."

His voice had gone low, his hands tugging gently as he turned me around. He pulled my back against his chest and I gasped in surprise as his breath stirred my hair.

"You can't just hear the music," he murmured, "You have to feel it in your blood."

His rhythm began to shift, following just the off-beat, slowing so I could feel how it moved along his frame. His reiatsu coiled around us, carrying the pulse on its flow, and I trailed my fingers through it, letting it burn against my skin.

"It's not about following the music," he instructed, his thumb grazing my stomach as my shirt pulled up. "It's about letting it move through you."

I felt my head spinning, a smile pulling at my lips as I watched his reiatsu dancing softly though the air. I could feel the music in the roll of his body, singing though mine on the tips of his fingers. It was the most primal, wild thing I'd ever felt in my life. I laughed as we moved, letting it pull me along, shivering as his hands dragged me closer to his warmth.

"Dance with me, Kurosaki." His lips tickled against my ear, his voice so low it was almost a growl.

He released me and I turned, matching his pace as his tempo increased. I felt free and electric, following the pull of the reiatsu still trailing gently around us. Time blurred into a haze of motion, my smile still lingering as the sweat beaded my skin. His hands skimmed over me from time to time, directing and coaxing, encouraging me forward. It was like he was playing the harmony to some deeper rhythm with every fleeting touch. I'd never felt so alive.

The music shifted again, slowing, darkening, the low pulse of the beat dragging heavy through my veins. His hand curled over my hip, pulling me closer, matching the roll of my body like it was singing just for him. His fingers slipped higher, sliding damp over my hot skin as my shirt rose up. _Fuck_.

My fuzzy thoughts snapped back into focus as my body start to respond in the most inappropriate way possible. Like fucking ice water I suddenly remembered that I was in the middle of a crowded room, dancing with a _guy_ who I'd sworn I wasn't going to do any awkward shit around. I tried to reign myself in but it was far too late and I tripped to a halt as I lost the music's edge.

"Are you okay?" He murmured, catching me against his body, his hand sliding up my back as I stumbled again.

I heard a soft gasp from somewhere to the left and I turned to meet the wide-eyed stare of a girl a few feet away. She was staring at us with a look of open lust, her tongue tracing her lips as she shifted her gaze between us. Behind her, the guy she'd been dancing with looked thoroughly disgusted. It seemed we'd been drawing considerable attention, and a fair number of people were watching us now. I felt myself flush, and thanked every fucking god I could think of that at least they hadn't seen the worst of my shame.

"Kurosaki?"

He sounded slightly strained and I forced my attention around, watching him drag his eyes up with a wince and an apologetic sort of understanding. I realized that regardless of what I'd managed to hide from the rest of the world, Ukitake sure as fuck had noticed my _condition_. Un-fucking-believable. I'd never failed at a resolution so hard or so fast in my whole life, but I was pretty fucking sure I couldn't have made this more awkward if I tried.

"Fuck," I growled and he shifted slightly, putting some space between us as his eyes softened with compassion. "I'm sorry," I cut him off before he could say anything. I could tell he was going to be nice, and I was just going to feel weirder. "I didn't mean…it's just…_fuck_."

My humiliation had finally accomplished what my willpower couldn't, dragging my body sufficiently from its hardened state. I pulled away from him, trying to think of something to say, but how the fuck do you apologize for getting hard while you're pressed up against some guy who hardly knows you? _Fuck_. He was watching me with controlled interest, his features carefully schooled, and I realized I was probably making this weird for him, too.

"I'm sorry," I muttered again, turning on my heel to push through the crowd. Retreat seemed like the best option at the moment, considering I couldn't think of anything else.

I made it almost all the way off the floor before someone grabbed my arm, jerking me back. I spun, coming face to face with some big-ass punk sporting an ugly sneer.

"Hey, faggot, I got something you can suck on if you're done over there," he spat, stinking of beer and liquor.

I usually have more restraint, but I was already on edge and I really hated shits like him anyway. I twisted easily out of his grip and caught him in the jaw with my fist, sending him sprawling. One of his buddies started forward, but I gave him a hard look and he was either smarter of less drunk because he stepped the fuck off. I turned, making my way into the night without a backward glance.

I slowed once I'd made it a couple of blocks, shoving my hands into my pockets and growling a steady stream of curses at the darkness. I couldn't figure out what the fuck was wrong with me, but I was pretty sure that whatever it was, it was big. I should have stayed home when I realized how important this shit had gotten. I definitely should have been more careful when I noticed I was attracted to him. Fuck, I was pretty sure I should have been a hell of a lot more concerned about being attracted to a guy in the first place. I sure as fuck shouldn't have been _dancing_ with him after all that. It was just asking for trouble, so I couldn't figure out why I was so surprised when everything went to shit. I was _so_ much more fucked up than I'd thought three days ago.

I felt a stirring of awareness and tensed, my head snapping up in time to see Ukitake pass silently overhead. He stalled his forward momentum easily against a wall and dropped gracefully into step beside me, like he'd been there the whole time. I decided I wasn't even surprised at that point, because why the fuck should he have a normal gigai anyway, that would be too simple. Ukitake Juushiro, fucking rockstar _ninja_. He probably got that shit from Urahara, and that bastard didn't know the meaning of _normal._

"I had to retrieve my card from the bar," he explained, as though his five minute delay in catching me required some sort of excuse.

He wandered beside me in silence for a few minutes as I struggled with what to say. I still had no fucking idea how the hell I was supposed to apologize for getting _hard_ while I was _dancing_ with another_ guy_. There were so many fucked-up things in that sentence that I didn't even know where to begin.

Technically he'd been the one to ask me to dance, hell he'd practically dragged me out there, but that probably had something to do with the way I'd been fucking staring at him. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, though, because I was pretty damn sure that if I caught a guy staring at me like that, the _last_ thing I'd do is ask him to dance. So what the fuck did that mean? _Fuck. _Maybe the Shinigami did shit differently; maybe he just liked to dance; maybe I had no fucking idea why he did half the shit he did and I probably never would. In any case, I was pretty damn sure it hadn't been an invitation for me to do what I'd done.

None of that shit explained why I'd been out there in the first place, or why I'd gotten so damn turned on by the whole thing, or why I though his motherfucking earrings were sexy. Of course there _was_ an easy answer for all that shit, and I already knew it: I was attracted to him. I was attracted to a _male_ Shinigami who I'd only really known for a couple of days and I couldn't even figure out if I was actually upset by _that_ piece of the mess. Seriously, what the fuck?

"Are you always this high-strung?"

I started a little, because I'd forgotten he was there and because I recognized his words from the night before. I glanced at him and found his eyes trained on the sidewalk, watching it pass underfoot with a slight tilt to the corner of his lips. Fucking great, he thought it was funny. Somehow, though, it made the knot in my chest ease a bit.

"I'm sorry about that…shit," I mumbled, slowing to a halt on the empty sidewalk. I hated the edge I could hear in my voice and the heat in my face.

"Don't apologize," he said softly, his brows drawing together as he turned to look at me. "You're young, and it's natural for your body to become aroused by intimate contact; one of the _most _natural things, in fact."

I dropped my eyes, feeling ashamed both by what had happened and by the ease with which he spoke of it. He made everything seem so simple sometimes, even when it didn't feel simple. I heard him sigh.

"If anyone should apologize it's me, for touching you so freely," he continued, quieter still. "I rarely dance with a partner, and I forgot myself for a moment."

I dragged my gaze back up and found him watching me with a tired sort of remorse. I didn't like the thought of him blaming himself for that shit. It wasn't his fault that my fucking human side had come barging in and I was acting like some fucked-up, horny teenager with _orientation_ issues. Teenage hormones really were bullshit, and I didn't have much experience dealing with them because lately I'd been spending a lot of time as a Shinigami with bigger problems. Hell, I'd always had bigger problems.

"It's just…don't worry about it," I muttered, feeling the stir of his calm even through the haze of my embarrassment. I'd thought him being cool about it would make it seem weirder, like he was feeling sorry for me, but it didn't. He just made shit seem easier, even though I still felt awkward as hell.

"Go home and get some sleep, Kurosaki-kun," he said softly, the fond little smile drifting faint across his lips. "The world will survive for one night, and you will feel better in the morning."

He tilted his head slightly, watching me for a second longer before he turned, heading in the opposite direction. I stared at his retreating back for a moment, feeling like shit for ruining his night.

"Why'd you dance with me?" I called after him, because apparently I hadn't done enough embarrassing shit for the night.

He paused, turning to study me from a few feet away as I flushed, wondering again what the fuck was wrong with me. His eyes softened and he seemed to consider his answer for a second.

"You wanted to dance with me," he said simply, watching me for my reaction. "Though I think you understand yourself better now than you did at the time."

I winced as his words sparked the memory of our conversation after dinner, about the dangers of night and not understanding yourself. I wondered if he'd recognized my fucked-up attraction even then, and figured there was a pretty good chance. People always seemed to know shit about me before I did and it was total bullshit. I felt even more awkward realizing he'd seen that in me; that he'd just been indulging me because he was too damn nice.

"Yeah...um, sorry," I muttered again, feeling edgy and tired. "I'll see you around, okay?"

I turned, shoving my hands into my pockets but drew up short as he called my name. He was already approaching as I turned and I watched silently until he stopped, just inside what might have been considered a polite distance. He stared down at me, shaking his head faintly against some unknown thought, an odd smile lingering around his mouth. His eyes slipped closed for a brief second and he sighed again, an amusedly resigned little sound.

"Forgive me, Kurosaki," he said softly, the smile drifting in his eyes. "I wasn't completely honest in my answer."

I frowned and he tilted his head, gaze warming another degree.

"I danced with you because I wanted to," he admitted. "I wanted to see you move, and I have fewer inhibitions than I should when I'm in some settings."

There was a certain ruefulness tinting his tone, like he could hear the excuse as the world left his lips.

"What, like you couldn't help yourself?" I asked, my eyebrow sliding upward despite my fucked-up state of mind.

His lips curled a little higher at one corner.

"More like I didn't _want_ to help myself," he corrected softly before his eyes turned serious once again. "It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable, though, or to stir any unwanted reactions. I truly apologize for my lack of restraint."

"Its whatever," I shrugged after a moment, and I actually sounded like I meant it that time.

I wasn't sure why he was telling me this, or what it meant exactly, but it made me feel a little better to know that he'd done at least some of that shit for reasons other than just humoring me.

"Get some sleep, Kurosaki," he said fondly, smiling as he turned and moved away.

I didn't call him back that time, but I did watch him for a minute before going my own way. I had no fucking idea if I was going to feel better in the morning, but I sure as hell knew that sleeping wasn't going to make everything normal again. It also wasn't going to give me any answers as to what the fuck I was going to do. That would require thinking.

Suddenly going to bed seemed a lot more appealing. I'd think about it later…if I had to.


	4. Thursday

**A/N:** First off, I'd like to once again thank everyone for their support and reviews. I really do appreciate all of the input. To address something that a couple of people have stated, I'd like to elaborate on Ukitake's manner of dress. The T-shirt look is admittedly abnormal, but I think he's adaptable enough to pull it off if properly motivated. You may have noticed that in the first chapter he was dressed completely different, in a style that Ichigo referred to as casually elegant. His decision to change that style was more of an attempt to keep Ichigo from feeling out of place, than a particular fondness for the clothes. Personally, I've always pictured him more dressed up, but I could also see him going out of his way to make someone feel included. So…yeah. That was my motivation, in case that helps.

Other than that, I don't have much to say. I hope you enjoy!~

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><p><strong>Thursday – <strong>

_**~ "Courage is pushing yourself to the edge of your endurance, and then taking another step." ~**_

I rested my forehead against the wall, letting the cold from the brick seep into my brain as I stared down at the ground. Turned out I was right when I assumed that sleeping it off wasn't going to give me any answers. I did feel a little better, he _was_ right about that, but it wasn't nearly enough to make me forget about the shit I'd done or how awkward I felt. Thinking about it wasn't really helping either, because I couldn't seem to decide what to be upset about.

I was pretty fucking sure that being attracted to a guy was weird for me, but the problem was that it didn't _feel_ weird. I'd only ever been attracted to girls before, and even that was pretty uncommon, if I was being totally honest. Usually it just made me more self-conscious and a bit edgier around them; like I didn't know quite what to say or how to act.

The last person I had a thing for was Rukia, but that was a total disaster, between feeling indebted to her and having to deal with the new Shinigami shit. Then she'd been sentenced to death and we'd all gone rushing in, and by the time we'd succeeded everything was just so fucked that I didn't feel the same anymore. She was like family now, and I'd repaid my debt. When she'd opted to stay in Soul Society I hadn't even felt bad; I was happy she'd found her peace there.

Whatever this shit was with Ukitake, it was different. I'd _never_ in my whole life felt so compelled to seek out another person's company. Somehow it seemed like the whole thing was totally opposite from the way it usually was. Being around him made me feel calm, talking to him seemed to come easier, and he never made me feel more awkward than I made myself. Unfortunately, I made myself feel pretty fucking awkward without any help at all.

When I first noticed I was attracted to him it hadn't been a physical realization so much as a general one. I found him attractive, but it was hard to tell on what level or what I really wanted to do about it. It had very quickly become clear that it _was_ a physical attraction, at least on some level, and that my body had at least _some_ idea of what it wanted to do, even if the rest of me didn't. Fucking brilliant.

I hated when shit got uncomfortable. I didn't have any experience with that type of thing. Hell, I'd never even kissed anyone, and suddenly I had to worry that I might want to kiss some _guy_. Did want to, I amended to myself after half a seconds thought, not that it would ever get that far. Fuck, I really needed to stay away from him before I did anymore fucked up shit and he _stopped_ being so cool about it. I'd already decided not to go out anymore, at least not until he left. I figured I'd made him deal with enough of my shit for the week.

Of course that didn't explain what the fuck I was doing outside, leaning against a random wall and trying to think. It was almost 11, far later than I'd ever met him, so I was pretty sure he wouldn't be around. I'd forced myself to stay inside for quite awhile, but I'd lost in the end. Maybe there was a part of me that _needed_ to humiliate myself; maybe I didn't have any fucking self-control at all; and maybe, just maybe, I couldn't get the way he'd looked when he told me he hadn't _wanted_ to help himself out of my head.

I pushed away from the wall, walking the last couple of blocks in moody silence. I really wasn't surprised when I turned the corner and found the street empty, but I did feel a little heavier. I wandered halfway down the block, to the stretch of wall where I'd waited the second night, and pressed my forehead against it, noting the difference in texture between it and my previous wall. It wasn't as cool and it bit into my skin, but variety was the fucking spice of life, after all.

Something touched the edge of my awareness and I glanced up, staring blankly into a pair of dark eyes two stories above me. Ukitake was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the roof, elbows propped on his knees and chin resting on his laced fingers. He hadn't bothered with a gigai, his Shinigami robes dark against his pale skin and his hair trailing softly around him. There was something in his eyes, a haunted sort of wistfulness that sank into me even as it vanished from his face in favor of a faint smile.

"Um…hi," I said brilliantly, and he made a soft noise that may have been a chuckle, disappearing in blur that left me staring into space.

"Lovely evening, Kurosaki-kun," he offered politely from a few steps behind me. Captains could move so fast when they wanted to and I couldn't track him right in my human body.

I turned, casting about for something to say and feeling awkward all over again.

"I didn't think you'd come," he admitted quietly, rescuing me from my private thoughts.

I felt my brows pull in confusion, eyes tracing his tired smile. "Then why'd you wait?"

"In case you did," he said simply, the smile touching his eyes.

I didn't know what to say to that, but a piece of my awkward chill seemed to fall away.

"Would you care to walk with me for awhile?" He offered casually, turning to stare down the empty street.

"I guess," I shrugged, because I couldn't think of anything better to say.

He smiled and set out, and I fell in beside him, feeling far more at ease than I'd expected. As long as he didn't bring it up, and I didn't bring it up, things might just be okay.

"Our options are somewhat limited tonight," he observed thoughtfully, "considering my general invisibility and your body's limited travel range."

"Huh…?" I shot him a questioning look before realizing he meant shunpo. "Oh, right. Hold on."

I stopped abruptly, digging into my pocket as he cast a curious glance in my direction. I finally found what I was looking for, hauling the little green orb into the light to check for debris.

"Soul candy?" He asked, sounding vaguely amused.

"Sorta," I muttered, sliding the thing between my lips.

I felt a tug in my chest and stepped back as Kon stepped forward. I stepped back again as he rounded on me.

"You kidnapped me!" He wailed dramatically, stabbing an accusatory finger in my direction." I told you I was busy tonight and you _kidnapped_ me!"

"You weren't busy," I snapped, smacking his hand out of the way." You were laying on the sidewalk, trying to look up girls' skirts."

"I was on a quest," he shouted shrilly. "You don't understand my…gAACK!"

Kon reeled back, staring wide-eyed at Ukitake, whom he'd apparently just noticed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you now?' I scowled at him.

Kon didn't even spare me a glance, swallowing hard as Ukitake took a step closer.

"You're as high-strung as Kurosaki-kun," he noted conversationally, his brows pulling faintly in question. "I hadn't realized any modified souls survived the purge. How interesting."

Oh fuck, I'd forgotten Kon was some sort of illegal contraband. Fucking Urahara.

"Um, so…Kon, this is Ukitake Juushiro…-taichou," I muttered, trying to inject some calm. Kon, for his part, just blanched and dragged his horrified gaze to me, lips forming silently around the word 'taichou'.

I turned to Ukitake, mostly to get away from the accusation budding in that far too familiar face.

"This is…uhh…Kon. He's…," _An illegal and possibly dangerous modified being that I usually house in a stuffed animal…? _I had nothing even vaguely useful to say at that moment.

"If I were to guess," Ukitake cut in smoothly, still shifting an interested gaze between us, "I would have to say this traces back to Urahara Kisuke in some way. Really, there's no way it couldn't."

He was absolutely right on that count, so I just shrugged. I wondered, in a detached sort of way, if all roads of weirdness could be tracked back to Urahara in some form or another. Probably. Fucker.

Kon was being unusually quiet, which probably meant he was planning an elaborate escape. That might serve in the short term, but could mean a hell of a lot of trouble if he didn't go somewhere predictable. I needed my body back at some point, and I really didn't feel like chasing his spastic ass around all night to get it.

"Calm the fuck down," I ordered, in what I hoped was an authoritative tone. Judging from the narrowing of Kon's eyes I probably failed, but I persisted doggedly. "No one's going to do any weird shit to you. I just need you to go home."

I really hoped that wasn't a lie and Ukitake, apparently sensing my concern, raised his hands in a show of nonaggression.

"I assure you, I have no interest in disrupting your charmingly complex life," he soothed, offing a reassuring smile.

Kon's look said that he didn't find the smile quite as reassuring as he might have, but some of his coiled tension eased. He looked between us again, and I could see the hint of a question starting to build, but self-preservation won out in the end.

"Whatever," he muttered, in a pretty good show of not caring.

He gave us both another hard look, then crouched low and launched himself skyward, landing on the three story building beside us.

"You owe me, Ichigo," he called down, much braver from the added distance.

"Whatever," I yelled back, fighting down the urge to flash a rude gesture. "Just go home."

For once he didn't argue, turning to disappear into the dark. I highly doubted he would go straight home, but it didn't matter, he'd turn up there eventually. I felt Ukitake shift behind me and turned, offing a half smile which he returned easily.

"So, what now?" I asked, grateful that I at least _sounded_ somewhat casual.

He studied me for a brief second, as though trying to read my deeper thoughts, before turning to stare into the city. A faint breeze stirred in the darkness, lifting tendrils of snowy hair to dance around his face.

"How's your shunpo?" He inquired benignly, lips curling into a warming smile.

"I can keep up with Byakuya in a fight." I shrugged. People seemed to be impressed by that, but I had no idea if it meant anything. Maybe there was some sort of rating system. Who the hell knew?

"And outside of combat?" he prompted, eyeing me with mild curiosity.

"Ummm…." Good fucking question. I couldn't remember ever trying that shit just for the hell of it. "Is it different?"

"It depends on the person, and what they're trying to accomplish," he said, looking as unconcerned as ever by a potential inability to achieve some goal. "For now, why don't you try following me. That's fairly simple and I'll go slow."

I had just enough time to consider being insulted when he disappeared, and I realized that it was _way_ fucking different to follow shunpo without the aid of life and death adrenaline. He reappeared a couple of feet away, tilting his head silently in question. Fuck that; I wasn't letting something like _shunpo_ get the best of me.

The next time he stepped I was ready – sort of – and took off after him, albeit with a bit less grace than I would have liked. Secretly, I was glad he was going slow, even though I never would've admitted it, because it took me a few tries to sync properly. The world flew by in a haze of color, noise and wind, dragging the city out behind me. I felt it when he picked up his pace, and threw myself into the motion, not even caring where my feet took me.

I sensed more than saw him stopping and staggered to a halt, my body giving a lurch of protest against the hasty decision. When I finally settled, the first thing that hit me was the quiet. It wasn't a deafening silence, like the absence of sound, more just the absence of the city. I'd grown so used to it, that I didn't even notice until it was gone. The breeze stirred long grass against my calves, the sound vaguely reminiscent of some far away ocean. I just stared for a moment, watching it sway and bend under the light of the nearly full moon. It was beautiful, peaceful, and in some way I couldn't even describe, a little sad. I felt some of my earlier tension start to slip.

"Sometimes it's good to get away from the rush of the city," he said softly, studying the glow of the world in the distance. "If only to clear your head for a moment."

I couldn't find a reply, even though I knew what he meant, because it only served to remind me of the thoughts I needed to clear. I turned and found Ukitake moving slowly away, his gaze shifting from the city to the hillside beneath his feet. Loose hair fell around his face, hiding him from view and I hesitated, feeling uncertain all over again.

"Kurosaki-kun," My eyes snapped back to his and he smiled faintly, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. "Would you prefer a different location?"

"No." There was no hesitation in my voice and it surprised me a little, but I realized that I liked the tranquility. Besides, there wasn't anywhere on the fucking planet that would take away yesterday, so it really didn't matter.

His brows pulled together softly, but he didn't question me further. I guess he probably didn't need to; he always seemed to know what I was thinking. He shrugged out of his captains coat, the lining a dark contrast to the white exterior. The moonlight washed it nearly black and I searched my memory for a hint of its true color: Red, maybe? But I couldn't find a source for that bit of guessed knowledge.

He flicked his wrists with practiced ease, and the cloth flared, fluttering briefly before settling onto the grass, dark and shimmering against the rolling hillside. He sank gracefully to his knees pressing the cloth deeper, and ran his hands over it for a moment before sliding lower. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the cloudless sky in silent reflection. His eyes flickered briefly to me, shadowed with the same unease I'd seen earlier that night, before returning to his study.

The fingers of one hand traced over the hilt of a sword, sliding lower to pull the sheath slowly from his sash. He raised it one handed to rest between himself and the moon, staring at it for a moment before laying it aside. He repeated the process a second time, slower than before, until he finally lay still, unarmed beneath the sky.

"Are we creatures of war, Kurosaki?" his voice was smooth in the cool night air, mellow and strangely subdued. "Sometimes it seems that we are awarded only fleeting glimpses of a different life to remind us why we must endure the chaos and destruction."

A breeze ghosted across the hillside, stirring my hair like a phantom touch. He sounded so wistfully sad in that moment, but there was a deeper kind of longing that spoke of tempered regrets. It was like the whisper of ancient wounds, long since healed over, still aching in the bones when the weather turned dark. It was the sound of haunted demons struggling to be free.

I frowned, the grass parting soundlessly as I closed the distance between us. I didn't know how to respond, he'd caught me off guard yet again, and somehow I got the feeling that it hadn't been his intended topic. His Shinigami robes blended into the darkness but his pale hair and skin stood out in sharp relief; one hand toying idly in the swaying grass. I stared down at him, unable to find my words.

"We're making the world a safer place, but in exchange we are unable to ever truly be a part of it." He watched the blades slide between his fingers, as though unaware that he was even speaking.

I slid Zangetsu off my back and lowered him to the ground, rolling my shoulders against the change in weight. I dropped down beside Ukitake, half on his coat, and pulled up my knees, folding my arms across them. He shifted as I settled in; turning his head to search out my gaze and for a moment I could see the centuries of conflict swirling beneath the surface. He seemed to catch himself, his lips pulling into a rueful smile as the tranquility slid back across his face, chasing away the lingering shadows.

"Forgive me," he murmured softly, staring up at me. "Places like this tend to leave me a bit melancholy at times. Please don't concern yourself."

I turned away, facing out toward the glow of the city and rested my chin on my arms. I'd wondered more than once what drew him to me, and even in that moment I still has no answer. I'd thought at first it was my similarity to Kaien, that somewhere in my life he saw an echo of that past. It didn't seem right, though, or at least not enough; there was something else there, but I just couldn't fathom it. Maybe it was simple camaraderie, a mutual sort of understanding, and maybe, on some level, we were looking for the same thing.

"Do you wish for a different life sometimes?" I asked the open air, and fuck if I knew which one of us I was really asking.

"Kurosaki," he sighed, and I could tell he regretted his momentary lapse.

"I think I know more about fighting than anything else in my life," I admitted, turning to catch his gaze from the corner of my eye. "Do you think that's fucked up?"

"A bit," he said, the curve of a smile softening the honesty of his words. "But not wholly unexpected, I suppose."

A part of me wanted to take offense, to ask him what he meant. To demand to know what he thought he knew about my entirely fucked-up world. The larger part kept me silent, though, because after several nights in his company I'd realized he knew more than I ever would have guessed. Too much, sometimes. And I was a little afraid to hear his impression of my somewhat two-dimensional life.

"I don't have a lot of extra time," I began, but the words sounded like an excuse and I let them die in my throat.

"I meant no censure,' he said softly, sitting up beside me and drawing up a knee.

"I know," I assured him, raising my head to look at him fully.

He was such an interesting contrast of complex subtleties, light and dark and everything in between. It fascinated me. _He_ fascinated me. I could feel the heat rising in my face at the thought and it only got worse when he brushed back his hair and I realized I missed his fucking earrings.

"Is that why you do all that shit? To feel normal?" I asked, trying to refocus my thoughts and rushing to clarify when a dark brow rose in question. "You know, the gigai, the food, the music, the d-dancing…"

My mouth snapped shut and I swore a stream of mental curses at myself for walking my ass straight into the realm of _bullshit I didn't want to talk about._"

His eyes softened and I looked away, not wanting to invite the words that came anyway.

"You don't need to be ashamed," he said; the calm, soothing tone sliding over my frayed nerves.

"It was fucked up," I bit out through a tightening throat, the words as close to an apology as I could manage at the moment.

"It was a natural reaction to something I shouldn't have been doing in the first place," he countered, an edge of authority lacing his tone.

"It wasn't like I was doing fuck-all to stop you," I mumbled, surprised by my lack of shame at the admission.

"I shouldn't have put you in that situation," he said softly, in the same self-deprecating tone he'd used the night before. Somehow, that bothered me more than anything else.

"Yeah, well I didn't notice you having any _problems_, so it's probably just me fucking shit up again." I fell back, landing mostly on his coat and stared up into the star-splashed darkness. "Don't blame yourself for my bullshit."

It was like the words were pouring out and I just couldn't stop them, but somehow it didn't bring the horror I'd expected.

He was quiet for a long moment, which wasn't abnormal, but it was the quality of the silence that finally caught my attention. I flicked my eyes to him and found him staring into space, a look of perplexed consideration gracing his features. It was as though he was searching for some elusive answer, before his eyes finally slid back to me.

"I have a good deal more practice in control than you," he said gently, brows knitting together as though still working the problem.

"Yeah," I broke away, rubbing my hand over my eyes, "I know. My control is shit."

I had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going, and it only grew worse as the seconds ticked on. A little voice inside was screaming at me to run, to cut my losses and get the hell out of there, but I just couldn't do it. I also couldn't think of a way to change the subject, so I knew that I was destined to suffer through whatever came. Maybe I was just that masochistic.

"Control is learned through experience," his voice carried gently on the breeze. I felt the cloth shift as he reclined next to me, leaving enough space to spare my sanity. "I forget sometimes that your age does not lend itself well to certain situations; and that this type of control isn't something you pick up overnight."

Something in his tone drew my hand from my eyes and I found him propped on his elbow next to me, eyeing me with that familiar fondness.

"Have you ever been with a woman, Kurosaki?" he asked smoothly, looking for all the world like he could be asking about the weather.

I felt my jaw go slack, but it was without permission, as there were no words in my throat to formulate a reply. I hated it when my bad feelings came true.

"Or a man?" he pressed gently, no hint of mockery in his gaze. I knew it was a fair question, all things considered, but it cut deep and I choked, my face burning as I turned away.

"I…um…" I gritted my teeth hard, embarassment racing through me as if all my secrets had just been laid bare. I just couldn't say it, it was fucking pathetic to be so naive, and I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing me that way.

Cool fingers slid against my jaw, dragging me back to meet his serious gaze.

"Forgive me," he whispered, looking sad and tired and a little bit lost. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable again."

I shrugged faintly, but I didn't trust my voice, not with my spinning emotions and his fingers burning my skin.

"Your innocence is nothing to be ashamed of," he breathed, the tranquil ease of his words sliding over me. "You are _very_ young, and though some may disagree, I believe that some things shouldn't be taken lightly just for the sake of it. I don't believe it reflects poorly that you are not frivolous with your affections."

His grip loosened, but I made no move to turn, and I felt his fingers glide over my skin as he slowly pulled away.

"What about you?" I asked before I could think better of it, wincing as I saw his brow lift in question.

"How do you mean?" He posed, and I realized I'd been unclear, but the thought of saying more twisted my tongue into knots.

"I -," The words just wouldn't come and I wondered what the fuck I'd been thinking in the first place.

"Considering your knowledge of my age, I can assume you're not inquiring about my experience in general," he mused, and I could see the flicker of amusement even through my self-loathing. "So what is it you're wondering? If I've ever been with a woman?"

My heart lurched painfully, but I seemed to be frozen in place.

"If I've ever been with a man?" he pressed further and I bit my lip, dropping his gaze as it became too much to bear.

He didn't relent, sliding lower to rest against the curve of his arm, bringing me once again into line of sight.

"If I've been with both?" he murmured, his voice dipping low, the hint of amusement laced with something else.

I almost flinched away, but at the last second something in that tone held me fast. I knew he was teasing me; a harmless response to such a bold question, but there was something whispering at the edge of the play. It was almost like a test woven deep beneath the surface, but I didn't know the stakes or even the basic goal. I cocked a brow in his direction, the subtle move at odds with the color in my face, but I saw his own pull faintly in response.

"Are you asking about my _orientation_?" he murmured, seeming completely at ease with thought.

I don't know what I was thinking, most likely I simply wasn't; my thoughts too scattered to warn me away. I shifted my weight, rolling to face him, tucking an arm under my head to mirror his pose.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I whispered, watching his eyes widen fractionally as I rose to the challenge.

He smiled, a lazy flash of teeth unlike any I'd seen before.

"Fair enough," he murmured, "considering I technically brought it up." He gave me a brief, assessing perusal. "Admittedly, my tastes have generally leaned toward women, but that's by no means been exclusive over the years."

"So you've been with men _and_ women?" I asked, my earlier embarrassment falling away in the face of his unabashed disclosure.

"Together and separately," he admitted softly with no air of boasting; just the final little piece of a completely honest answer. "Though I haven't indulged in any of that for quite some time now."

"Why not?"

It wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't stop the question.

"I was more careless in my youth," he sighed, seeming not to take offense. "Now I find myself with enough responsibility to fill a dozen lifetimes, and little room for anything else."

"Oh." That seemed wrong somehow, though I didn't doubt him; there was just something about it that didn't seem...fair.

"I wonder." His voice dipped lower, his eyes roaming my face with a restrained curiosity. "If I were to pose the same question to you, regarding your preferences, would you have an answer for me?"

The million dollar question, tossed out for the world to see. My fingers twitched involuntarily, twisting deep into a soft tangle beneath them. I glanced down and found that my hand had come to rest in a wash of pale hair, splayed out in the space between us. It slid against my skin like threads of silk and moonlight, glowing faintly in the dark as though illuminated from within.

"I don't know," I whispered hesitantly, watching it flow between my moving fingers. Everything about him made me calm; like it was okay to be fucked up, to make mistakes, and to just not know sometimes. "I actually gave it some thought recently, but I didn't come up with much. Thinking is sorta bullshit, really."

He laughed softly, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair against my wrist.

"You don't seem as upset by it as I would have thought," he pointed out mildly.

"I'm not," I admitted, and felt only the slightest thrill of embarrassment at the confession.

"You seemed upset yesterday," he reminded me.

I dragged my eyes away from my fingers and watched him do the same, meeting my gaze across the space between us.

"Not about that," I murmured, feeling bold despite the hammering in my chest.

Something flickered behind his dark eyes, and his features pulled faintly against some silent thought.

"I hate the awkwardness," I said quietly, responding to his unspoken question. "I didn't like making that kind of a scene. I didn't want all the attention, or the way it made me feel, and I hated making you uncomfortable with more of my fucked-up bullshit."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," he murmured, so softly I almost missed it, and that same wistful sadness laced his hesitant words.

It was then that I had an epiphany, which might qualify me as the slowest fuck of the year, but whatever. Actually, I had two but it what the first that really hit home: Ukitake was attracted to me. Not a little bit, as in he liked my company, but a whole fucking lot. In hindsight, I supposed I really _was_ the slowest fuck of the year, because somewhere between the dancing and the laying under the fucking stars, my powers of deduction were at an all time low, even for me.

I actually felt my breath catch, and I saw him wince, which confirmed my second, somewhat less welcome realization: His attraction was _way_ on the wrong side of his better judgment, and he knew it. He was well aware it existed, but had decided not to pursue it. Moreover, he'd just realized that he'd stepped over the line and that I'd finally recognized the truth of the matter. Fuck. I wondered if it was the age, the status, the rank, or just the timing. Hell, it was probably a little of everything, and it really didn't matter anyway.

"It's getting late," he said quietly, dragging himself into a sitting position and running a hand through his hair. "You have to be up for school in a few hours."

He rose gracefully, and offered his hand, just as he had the first night. I allowed him to pull me to my feet silently, because I couldn't think of anything to say. He retrieved his coat, shaking free the loose grass before shrugging into it and reaching for his swords.

"Do you have plans tomorrow?" I asked him suddenly, because I had to say something and it was all I could come up with. "Or today, depending on how you look at it?"

He paused, his lips lifting faintly as he turned to look at me. My own smile pulled in response, but there was something guarded in his eyes, and a sad reluctance lingering in his frame.

"I think it would be better if I stayed in tonight," he said, sliding the swords into his sash. "I am due home soon and there are a few things I need to tie up before that time."

Oh," I muttered, nudging Zangetsu with my foot and scrambling for something else to say. It had all gone to shit so fast that I couldn't keep up, but watching him turn away just tore something inside me.

"Can you find your way home from here?" He inquired gently, looking back at me over his shoulder.

"Go out with me." The words slipped free without warning, my mouth resorting to the same embarrassing shit when my brain failed to act.

He paused again, his expression warring between amusement and wariness. "Pardon?"

I swallowed hard, but it was already too late and I wouldn't let myself take it back even if I could. Nowhere to go but forward. He turned fully as I approached, the amusement winning out as he stared down at me. I stopped closer than I should have and swallowed again.

"Tomorrow. Tonight. Whichever the fuck you want to call it." I clenched my fists at my sides, meeting his gaze steadily. "Go dancing with me again."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Kurosaki," he said gently, the rueful smile tugging one corner of his mouth. "For so many reasons."

I took another step forward, closing the space between us to inches, so close I could feel the heat from his skin.

"Dance with me, Juushiro."

I don't know what possessed me, but my own eyes widened as the words passed my lips and I heard him draw a sharp breath. His hand rose slowly, one knuckle tracing feather light across my cheek, so faint it almost didn't happen.

"I don't think - "

"Just say yes," I pressed, cutting him off before he could regain his balance.

He sighed, his hand falling away as he smiled, shaking his head slowly.

"Why don't we just wait and see what tomorrow brings, shall we?" he hedged, and I knew it was the best I was going to get.

I stepped away and let out the breath I'd been holding, feeling lightheaded from the racing in my veins.

"Okay," I agreed, giving him a long, final look before turning on my heel. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I thought I heard him chuckle, but it was lost on the breeze and the roll of the grass. I didn't give myself a chance to fuck things up any worse, stepping into shunpo and letting the hilltop flow away.

The grand effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that I had to return half an hour later to retrieve Zangetsu, who I'd somehow managed to forget. It suffered yet another blow when I found him standing upright, stuck partway into the hillside, which meant Ukitake had noticed my lapse as well. Fuck it. For my first legitimate try, I thought it was a damn fine exit…mostly.


	5. Friday  Pt1

_A/N: First off, thank you to everyone who has reviewed up to this point. I thoroughly enjoy reading all of your feedback. It truly does brighten my day._

_ So...this was a little more delayed than I would have liked! I really did mean to have it up awhile ago, but my computer died, and it took me some time (and effort) to recover my hard drive. After that it was sort of a free-for-all of disaster! My internet went out for DAYS, which is bad. Then I discovered that the fiance only had WordPad on his computer, which is just astounding to me (for those of you who don't know, WordPad is pretty much Notepad with a different name...it doesn't even have spellcheck). I further discovered that the word processors on my tablet and smartphone hate each other, much in the same way they hate the aforementioned WordPad. This is not helpful! Anyway, I have persevered, and am pleased to present you with the next chapter. I hope you enjoy, and I will have the next chapter (Friday- pt 2) up for you all shortly~_

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, part 1 –<strong>

**~ "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and possibly we're not playing the same game…" ~**

You hear people go on sometimes about how great it can feel to finally grow a set of balls and take a chance. I guess it's true, to an extent, because I did feel pretty fucking good when I threw the shit to the wind and asked Ukitake to go dancing with me. Hell, I'd even felt good when he was stepping around the answer, because I was riding some cocky, bullshit high about asking him in the first place.

Unfortunately, what no one talks about is how shitty it feels when your high comes crashing down, and you're stuck out on a limb that you're not sure can hold your weight. I felt my stomach twist as I slid a bit lower against what I suppose should have been dubbed _my_ wall by that point. It had taken me until lunch to realize how reluctant he'd seemed when he said we'd see what happened. At the time I'd brushed it off, but when I really took the time to think, I realized he wasn't the type to be coy with that shit, which meant he really _was_ reluctant. Hell, by the time I got home I'd realized that not only hadn't he agreed to go dancing with me, he hadn't really agreed to meet me at all. I was only assuming he would based on the rest of the week, and assumptions had never been my best fucking friend, so that didn't necessarily bode well.

I craned my neck back against my wall and stared at the passing clouds, shaking my head a little. I'd had a pretty fucked up week, to be honest, and I really wasn't sure how it was all going to end. Maybe it already_ had_ ended, and I was just slow on the uptake.

As if on cue I glanced sideways and saw Ukitake round the corner. He was in his Fucking Rockstar disguise again and, like that wasn't enough, he wasn't alone. The guy walking next to him laughed, the sound floating gently across the still air. He was maybe an inch or two shorter than Ukitake, and carried a little more bulk on his still lean frame. Pale hair hung in front of his face as he looked down at himself, pulling at the edge of his shirt like he couldn't believe he was wearing it. He chuckled again and glanced at Ukitake, muttering something I couldn't make out. I didn't need to make it out, though, because they'd passed under a light and I'd suddenly realized that I was in the last place in the whole world I should be right then. Fucking hell.

Urahara Kisuke just shook his head at whatever reply had been forthcoming, but he dropped the hem of his shirt and smoothed it back into place. They hadn't seen me yet, but it was only a matter of time; there was no way to slip by unnoticed at that point. I guessed it was an answer, of sorts, to my request from the night before, and even though I felt a little heavier I really couldn't blame him. I'd been intruding on him all week. He probably wanted at least_ one_ night of freedom from my fucked-up, moody, hormonal shit. Fuck, I wanted a night without it, so I could understand the appeal.

I briefly considered my options, and realized they were all shit. If I stayed where I was then I was obviously waiting, and it just felt awkward to let them see me like that. If I turned and walked away then they would be following me, which might have been the only thing _more_ awkward than just waiting. Also, they were bound to see me anyway, and if we were going in the same direction there was a chance at real conversation. I didn't think I could handle that at the moment. I growled, pushing off the wall and heading straight for them, keeping my eyes down. I wasn't deluded enough to think they wouldn't notice me, but I was hopeful that I could skate by with a word or two and be on my way.

"Kurosaki-kun?" Urahara finally spotted me and I slowed to a halt, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Hey, Urahara-san," I muttered, trying not to stare. I'd never seen him in such normal clothes, but somehow it seemed less weird than it had with Ukitake.

His gaze slid over me with mild curiosity, but he'd seen me in human clothed enough that it probably didn't seem out of place. "You weren't looking for me, were you?"

I hadn't really thought up an excuse, but this _was_ his neighborhood so it was a fair question.

"No, I was just…out," My eyes flicked to Ukitake, who was standing quietly to Urahara's left, almost directly in front of me.

"Forgive my manners," Urahara said, having caught the direction of my brief glance. "You remember Ukitake-taicho, don't you?" He gestured to the other man, like there was some possibility of confusion in the otherwise empty street. "I believe you met in Soul Society."

I nodded faintly, scrambling for some bullshit small talk but Ukitake beat me to it, as usual.

"Lovely evening, Kurosaki," he said tranquilly, one dark brow lifting faintly in question. "Are you headed somewhere in particular at the moment?"

"Not really," I muttered, because I didn't know what he was looking for and I was starting to feel really out of place. "I was just…"

I trailed off, not knowing what to say, but Urahara seemed accustomed to my half-assed replies because he cut in smoothly, without missing a beat.

"You should be resting, Kurosaki-kun," he admonished gently, giving me a second, more assessing perusal. "Wandering the streets at night will only leave you more fatigued if something_ does_ occur."

Apparently Urahara thought I was patrolling, despite having forgone my Shinigami form. I supposed that was reasonable, based on what he knew, but somehow I felt insulted that he never even considered I might be out socially. Then again, I'd probably been out more in that week than I had in the past 6 months, so fair point_ again_. Fuck.

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," I muttered, deciding I'd had enough awkward conversation for the night. "I'll see you guys around."

I gave them a half-wave and sidestepped Ukitake, proceeding along my previous path. Urahara made no move to stop me, because he had no fucking reason to; he was obviously going somewhere and I was clearly done with the pleasantries.

I actually flinched when something closed around my wrist, because it caught me off guard and I was wound like a spring. I stilled, eyes snapping to the pale fingers curled gently over my darker skin, blinking stupidly like I couldn't figure out how they'd gotten there. I followed the sweep of an arm back to its source and found Ukitake giving me the mildest long-suffering look I'd ever seen in my life. He sighed, shaking his head slowly.

"You're going the wrong way, Kurosaki," he supplied softly, eyes drifting over my face. "Unless you've truly decided you'd rather be home."

"I'm…" There were probably a whole slew of words that could have followed that pause, and maybe if I'd had that fucking book on conversation I could have found some of them. As it stood, I had nothing.

He sighed again with a decidedly amused edge, before turning wordlessly and starting down the street. He transferred my wrist from one hand to the other, and I actually let him tow me because I was too shocked to do anything else. After a few seconds Urahara slid in beside me, apparently having recovered from the unexpected twist.

"My, my," he drawled, giving me a much more interested look, before lengthening his stride to catch his companion. "What interesting fire you're playing with."

"I know," the older man muttered wryly, tossing me a quick glance over his shoulder. "But sometimes it burns so brightly that I just can't help myself."

His fingers tightened fractionally against my captive wrist, his thumb stroking an arch across the sensitive skin. I felt the heat settling in my cheeks.

"Fuck, Juushiro, I can keep up without you dragging me," I growled, tugging my arm free without any real force.

Urahara made a choked-off little noise, which in a lesser man might have been accompanied by a missed step, but Ukitake ignored him, sliding to one side to make room for me.

"I wish I could be sure of that," he sighed, his lips twitching faintly as I drew up between them. "But a moment ago you seemed incapable of falling in with the party, so I figured I'd better be safe."

"I didn't…I just thought…" I trailed off because I really didn't know _what_ I'd thought and I could feel Urahara's gaze boring into my skull.

"There are many other streets I could have chosen," he murmured softly. "Do you think me that cruel?"

"I don't want to intrude," I mumbled, acutely aware of Urahara's interest. "You probably have other shit you'd rather be doing."

"I honestly don't," he said, shooting me a mellow smile. "Besides, this was your idea, so you could hardly be intruding."

"Really?" Urahara interjected, and I turned to find him regarding me with a degree of disbelief. "And when, exactly, did Kurosaki-kun have an opportunity to suggest a social outing?"

"Last night," Ukitake replied easily, staring up at the passing sky. "He discovered me sitting atop a building and kept me company for awhile. Apparently he believed my previous plan of staying in and completing some reports was unacceptable and suggested an alternative."

It all sounded so uncomplicated when he said it like that.

"A social alternative?" Urahara clarified, as if this were somehow unfathomable to him. What the fuck was that about?

"I actually _do_ have a life, you know," I cut in, glaring when a pale brow cocked dubiously in response.

"So it would appear," he conceded, looking like he was mulling over the deeper implications. His gaze slipped back to Ukitake, but the other man just continued his perusal of the stars, and Urahara didn't press the matter. For the moment. I knew enough about him to guess this probably wasn't the end of it. Fucking fantastic, that was just what I needed.

"If we're going to Sol then I should call ahead," Urahara mused, tapping his lips thoughtfully and giving me an unconcerned look. "Avoid any age related nonsense."

Apparently he had the same outlook as Ukitake about that shit. Somehow I wasn't surprised.

"We're not going to Sol," Ukitake corrected, turning the corner and heading toward downtown.

"I thought you wanted to dance," Urahara reminded him, sounding vaguely amused by something in his head.

"I do," Ukitake replied easily, "just not at Sol."

"What's wrong with my club?" Urahara asked casually, not sounding upset, merely passingly curious.

"Your club?" I interrupted the easy flow before I could think better of it.

"Kisuke owns a piece of the club, as well," Ukitake supplied, before the other man had a chance to reply.

"You own a club with Urahara-san?"

I thought I was immune to his random shit, but apparently not. Every fucking day brought a special new surprise. Beside me, Urahara made a faint noise of interest but I chose to ignore him. Urahara's interest was almost never a good thing, and sometimes the key was to just remain ignorant.

"Technically I own a club with Kisuke, Yoruichi and Shunsui. It's a completely Shinigami establishment." He shot me an amused glance, like he knew how fucked up that sounded. "But fundamentally, the answer would be yes, I own a club with Urahara-san."

I guess in some ways it made sense, at least on Urahara's part, because I'd always wondered how the hell he funded all his weird shit. I'd never once seen anyone come near his shop in a business capacity.

"Fucked up," I muttered, more for the sake of it than for any real outrage. I really was pretty immune, it turned out. Still, something caught in my memory and I turned on Urahara. "Aren't you supposed to be in exile or some shit? How the hell do you own a club with a couple of Shinigami?"

He laughed, both at the question and my seeming lack of concern. "I _am_ in exile, or I was, at least."

I caught Ukitake's matching chuckle.

"Some people are better at being in exile than others," he added helpfully, but didn't clarify further.

Shinigami bullshit, 24 hours a day. In a weird universe, parts of it made sense, though; especially the way Ukitake and Kyouraku-taichou had shown up at Rukia's execution armed not only with a plan, but with some weird relic from Yourichi's family. At the time it had just seemed a little too convenient, but maybe there was a simpler explanation for it all. Maybe they'd been in contact before all that shit went down; maybe there was a deeper level to the fucking rabbit hole. I didn't bother asking. It sounded like a whole world of trouble and I found I didn't care at the moment.

The conversation flowed easily from there as we walked, though it consisted mostly of them chatting and me trying not to say anything stupid. It went pretty well, actually. By the time Ukitake stopped in the middle of a crowded sidewalk I was feeling fairly laid back, even with Urahara there. Until the bastard let out a dark chuckle, that is.

"_This_ is where you want to go tonight?" He asked Ukitake, the mirth lingering in his voice and on the curve of his lips.

I got another of my bad feelings, and gave the building a sharp look, even as Ukitake shrugged in my periphery.

"It's a nice club," he offered smoothly, sounding completely unconcerned. Given his history of being unconcerned by important shit, that didn't exactly ease my mind. "It's one of my favorites, outside of Sol."

I scanned the name over the door, and it stirred a vague memory that I couldn't quite place. The bad feeling wasn't going away.

"Oh, I like it, too," Urahara agreed easily. "It's upscale, exclusive, has great music, and keeps an amazing bar. Don't you think it might be a tad bit _too_ exclusive for certain company, though?"

My eyes narrowed as Ukitake just shrugged again, turning toward the door with an air of nonchalance. There was a queue outside, but I knew by now that it wouldn't be an issue. I almost looked away when something tickled at my thoughts and I took a second, better look. In the front of the line a really well dressed guy was laughing, pressing his fingers to his lips to contain his mirth. The guy beside him smiled, a bright flash of teeth, and leaned closer to whisper something in his ear. The bad feeling tugged harder as the first guy laughed again. A little further back, a group of girls were chatting, wrapped in too-tight clothes and tottering in sky-high heels. Oddly, they seemed to be drawing a surprising lack of attention considering the number of single guys around. Something clicked in my head and I swore, apparently out loud because Ukitake cast me a questioning glance.

"Is this a gay bar?" I demanded, already knowing the answer and sounding a little sharper than I would have liked.

"Club," he corrected easily, like that was the fucking problem.

I could feel myself flushing but I couldn't find my words. I didn't know how I was supposed to feel; or what it meant about me; or what Urahara would think. Was Ukitake making a statement? Was he looking for a reaction or some sort of response?

"Kurosaki," he said quietly, drawing me from my spinning thoughts, and I could tell from his eyes that he'd read every one. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I simply thought that after the incident at Sol you might not be comfortable going back so soon."

I cringed a little as I felt Urahara's interest pique, and Ukitake sighed faintly, looking resignedly amused.

"When were you at the club?" Urahara asked predictably, raising a pale brow in the older man's direction. "And what sort of trouble were you getting into?"

"Wednesday," he supplied, sparing Urahara a guileless look, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized he intended to answer the question. "Kurosaki had an altercation with one of the patrons who'd had a little too much to drink."

I drew up just short of a sigh. I hadn't realized he'd seen that.

"Wednesday?" Urahara's brow slid higher, before his gaze narrowed as the wheels started to turn. "When exactly did the two of you first meet?"

"Monday," Ukitake said blandly, as unconcerned as ever. "He saw me on the street and opted to walk with me for awhile."

"Huh." Urahara nodded, lips curling up at one corner. "And then Wednesday, a day you incidentally claimed to be busy, you ended up at Sol, with Kurosaki-kun, and he managed to get into a fight?"

"I _was_ busy," Ukitake corrected, a matching smirk pulling faintly. "And I'd hardly consider something which ended so quickly a true_ fight_."

Urahara laughed, and even I managed a smile, despite my somewhat frayed nerves. He really did manage to boil my flailing, angsty, hormonal shit down to the simplest possible terms.

"_Very_ dangerous fire, Ukitake-_sempai_," Urahara chuckled, something deeper lurking in his tone. He fished a phone out of his pocket and turned away. "I'm going to call Yoruichi and let her know we've changed venues."

Ukitake watched him drift off through the crowd, before turning back to me.

"I really do enjoy this place," he assured me softly, "and I meant you no discomfort."

"Its whatever," I shrugged. Once the initial shock wore off I hardly felt awkward at all. If we were all going inside, it could hardly be a statement meant to single me out.

"I also thought it might be easier for you," he admitted, explaining further when he caught my frown. "You said you disliked the attention from the other night and the way that it made you feel. Unfortunately, you and I would probably attract a degree of attention anywhere, for several reasons, but you will probably find the undercurrent a bit less hostile here."

"Oh," I said, because it probably_ did_ make sense. "I guess."

The conversation drew up short as Urahara made a reappearance, dropping the phone into his pocket and flashing me a way too bright smile.

"Shall we?" He motioned toward the club, pivoting around to lead the way.

A word or two had the bouncer holding the door, and apparently they _hadn't_ been hiring because I didn't seem to warrant a second glance. The music was loud as it washed over my senses, but it lacked some of the finesse that I'd noticed at Sol. It appeared the Shinigami were leading the market in style.

Ukitake took a right at the edge of the packed dance floor, weaving through the crowd and back past the bar. Several sets of doors opened onto a roomy terrace, with a scattering of tables laid out in the crisp, night air. We slid into one of the last open spots, and Urahara signaled a waiter to order a round of drinks: two mineral waters and a Coke, real adventurous. No one in their right mind would have believed we fought monsters. I snickered under my breath at feeling so completely mundane. It was a fucking trip.

We'd been lounging for about 15 minutes when Yoruichi made her appearance, commanding attention in a way only she could manage. She was wearing the most dangerous looking shoes I'd ever seen, and what had to be the shortest dress she could legally wear in public. I really wasn't surprised; she'd never seemed overly concerned with modesty, after all. She didn't so much as blink when she saw me, so I guessed Urahara had filled her in. She did, however, give me a rather curious once-over as she slid into a chair, which made me wonder what else he might have said.

"Sneaking into gay bars, Ichigo?" She flashed me a knowing grin. "You got something you want to tell me?"

"Fuck off?" I tried, because it seemed like a good place to start. I'd gotten fairly used to her twisted sense of humor, having been subjected to the gauntlet during our previous time together. "Also, I didn't _sneak_ anywhere, and it's a club, not a bar."

She just laughed, flagging down a waiter and ordering an unnecessary amount of liquor.

"I heard you got into a fight at my club," she said, reaching down to mess with the straps on her shoes. "Good to see you're keeping up with the troublemaking."

"I didn't start it," I grumbled, taking a sip of Coke and trying to ignore the chuckles from both Ukitake and Urahara.

"Of course not," she dismissed with a wave. "You never do."

She let out a little sound of frustration, propping her foot against the edge of the table to get a better look at whatever she was doing. I was mulling over a comeback when I glanced to the side and realized that the movement had pushed her skirt up to her hips, leaving me with a very uninhibited view of her panties. It's sad, but my first reaction was to be glad she was wearing them at all. Fucking Yoruichi. I snapped my attention back to a higher elevation.

"What on earth is giving you trouble?" Urahara laughed, shaking his head at her continued antics.

"I put these on too fast," she grumbled. "The straps are all twisted."

"I think you're going to give Kurosaki-kun a heart attack," he pointed out casually, catching her foot and hauling it into his lap.

She flashed a sly grin in my direction as his fingers moved smoothly over the leather.

"I doubt it," she drawled. "Not like he hasn't seen that and more."

I flushed as Urahara laughed again and shot a surreptitious glance in Ukitake's direction. He tipped his head faintly in question, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I wasn't -," I started to explain, but it was just going to sound bad, so I rounded on Yoruichi instead. "That wasn't my fault."

"Which time?" She snorted, presenting Urahara with her other foot as he slid the first one to the ground.

"All of them," I shot back, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction. "You're the one who has issues with clothes."

"No one made you look," she challenged, the shit-eating grin pulling wider.

"I didn't know you were naked," I exclaimed, feeling overly warm in the cool, night air, "or that you were sitting Indian-style at eye level. Who does that shit?"

"Oh, you meant that time?" She huffed. "I thought we were talking about the time I put on my shirt with no pants."

Even Ukitake was laughing by that point, and somehow, in the midst of it all, it became less about her trying to embarrass me, and more about the sparring banter. Maybe it had always been that way and she was just waiting for me to catch up.

"Oh right, 'cause it makes such a difference," I grumbled, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "Wasn't that the time you kept offering to let me peek?"

"I think you did peek," she purred, smirking like she approved of my response. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you peeked every time."

I was saved from a need to reply by the arrival of her slew of drinks. I wouldn't have had much of a defense anyway, because it was probably true. It had been fucking embarrassing at the time, but I wasn't going to deny that she was hot.

She tossed back three shots in quick succession, like she was trying to catch up, except no one was ahead of her. Urahara pulled the forth from her hand and downed it himself, in an apparent effort to keep her from drowning herself. He snagged the final glass before she could get it, earning himself a punch on the arm that looked like it hurt.

"Anyone interested in," he paused to frown at the glass for a moment, "something blue?"

He tipped the glass slightly in my direction, as though giving me a chance to examine it for myself. I didn't bother asking if he knew how old I was, because I knew he did, so I just waved him off. He shrugged, eyeing the shit like he might have said the same thing and turned to Ukitake.

"How about it?" He shook the glass a little, "you want some unknown concoction of Yoruichi's that I'm assuming contains a lot of alcohol?"

"Tempting," Ukitake chuckled, "but I'll have to pass. I had some wine earlier in the week and I'm afraid it didn't sit well."

"That's unfortunate," Urahara sighed, sipping at the drink himself. He blanched, giving it a dirty look before handing it back to Yoruichi. "Any lingering effects?"

"No, I just don't want to chance it," Ukitake assured him.

"Good idea," Yoruichi nodded, setting the already empty glass on the table with the others. "Would be a shame to cut the night off early. We hardly ever get to go out."

"Indeed," he agreed softly, and for a second I could see the memory of all that was looming skate across their faces before it was quickly banished.

"I can't remember the last time I saw you dance," she lamented with a sigh, turning to me. "Have you ever seen him dance?"

I froze for a second, the memory of the other night slamming to the front of my mind. Apparently she either took my silence as a no, or wasn't really looking for an answer, because she just went on talking.

"It's incredible to watch," she told me sincerely, shaking her head a little in wonder. "Except that he never dances with anyone, so he's missing half the fun."

That was strange.

"You don't dance with people?" I asked, catching his eye as I turned to look at him.

"Yoruichi is exaggerating," he assured me with a chuckle. "I do occasionally dance with partners. I'm simply selective."

"Selective?" Yoruichi snorted, "he actually uses his reiatsu to set up a buffer. Not that most people could keep up, mind you."

He shook his head, still laughing faintly. "You make it sound worse than it is."

"Probably," she admitted with a grin, "but I'm curious, how many people_ have_ you danced with in, say, the last 5 years?"

"I've been busy the last few years," he admitted, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Two, I suppose."

My eyes snapped back to him and the corner of his mouth twitched up as he gave me a half-shrug.

"Shunsui doesn't count," Yoruichi declared, thoroughly enjoying the topic. "His drunken flailing doesn't count as dancing, and you always just end up laughing. Besides, it should only_ really_ count if there's a chance of getting laid, and fuck knows you and Shunsui aren't going there. That leaves you one person in 5 years!"

"I suppose it does," he conceded mildly, letting his gaze slide back to her. "Though I'd have to argue that there are many other reasons for dancing."

"Did you have some nobler reason with your mystery partner?" She tilted her chin in smug challenge, grinning like a cat.

Ukitake's brow cocked faintly as he raised his bottle to his lips, holding her stare with tranquil ease.

"Not as much as I should have," he admitted finally, smiling as she laughed like she'd scored a point.

I stared down at my glass as I processing this new development, wondering where it fit in the grander scheme of things. He said he'd been busy, and maybe that was true, but one person in 5 years seemed a bit more than _selective_. I felt a prickle along my spine and glanced up to meet Urahara's too shrewd gaze. Awesome, this night just kept getting better. I cocked an eyebrow in a bid for nonchalance, but I could feel the heat creeping into my face as I turned back toward the others.

"Enough sitting around," Yoruichi laughed, apparently having decided she'd won her battle. She stood, smoothing out her dress and gave me narrow, assessing look. "You wanna give it a shot?"

"Huh?" I blinked up at her, still lost in my own thoughts.

"Dancing, Ichigo," she sighed, looking at me like I was slow. "It's sorta like fighting except no one gets hurt. I'm sure you could figure it out."

"I'm good," I said quickly, sounding a little more concerned than I needed to be. "I'll just stay here."

"Aw, come on," she coaxed, flashing a grin, "I'll let you put your hands on my ass."

Right, the concern _was_ warranted, how could I forget so soon?

"No, thanks." I shook my head, chuckling a little, "on both counts."

She laughed and turned to Urahara. "Guess I'm stuck with you."

"I'll try to live up to such high expectations," he drawled, sliding an arm around her and pulling her against him. "Does this mean_ I_ get to put my hands on your ass?"

"Like you have to ask." She elbowed him in the ribs with a cheeky grin and headed off to seek out the crowd.

I watched them disappear, toying with an old thought, before turning back to Ukitake.

"Are they…," I made a vague gesture that could have meant a lot of things, but I couldn't really think of the right word for it.

"For quite a long time now," he confirmed with a soft smile. "They're a rather interesting pair."

I'd suspected something for awhile, but it was somehow different knowing for sure. Not that it made any _real_ difference.

"I hadn't intended to bring them tonight," Ukitake went on, swirling his mineral water slowly in its bottle. "Kisuke happened upon me while I was getting ready, and more or less invited himself. He's not easily dissuaded once he latches onto an idea."

I had personal experience with that, so I knew what it was like.

"It's fine," I waved him off, and it really was, even though it wasn't what I'd expected.

"You caught me off guard last night," he admitted, meeting my gaze steadily. "I dealt with you less directly than I should have, because I was heavily conflicted. I know that my indecisiveness caused your earlier uncertainty and I apologize for that."

"It's whatever," I gave him a half smile, "I get myself wound the fuck up without any help at all."

He chuckled, and a little strain I hadn't even noticed fell from his frame. He shook his head, looking slightly regretful. "I'll understand if you don't want to follow through with your offer, seeing that the situation has changed somewhat."

It took me a moment to understand he meant the dancing and I realized my plan had sorta gone to shit. If we went out there now it was pretty much guaranteed that Urahara and Yoruichi would see us eventually. There was no way around it. That would open up a whole box of shit, and leave me dodging all sorts of questions I didn't have answers for. It would be a hell of a lot easier to just let it go, leave the battle for another day when I had time to figure things out.

"Fuck that," I snorted, part in response to the prospect of thinking, and part to him.

"Pardon?" He cocked a brow in my direction, the bottle stilling between his fingers.

"Let's go," I said, before I could think of a reason not to. I reached out and pulled the bottle from his grasp, setting it next to Yoruichi's empty glasses as I stood.

He rose as well, staring down at me fondly. "This still isn't the best of ideas."

I narrowed my eyes; maybe he was right, but I didn't fucking care. "Dance with me, Juushiro."

His lips parted slightly, and I could tell it was what he'd been waiting for. A slow grin spread across his face. "I thought you'd never ask."

He slipped past me, catching my wrist as he went, passing through the terrace doors and back into the main room. The music pulsed around us, drowning the world in it's flow; a living, breathing thing as it writhed in the room. I could see it roll over him, settling under his skin, riding the sway of his body as he moved through the thickening crowd. He pause for a moment, head tilted slightly, as though listening for something in the jumble of sound. Whatever it was must have been to the left, because he looked briefly in that direction before steering me to the right. Somehow I got the feeling that Urahara and Yoruichi had been somewhere in that mix.

People brushed against me as we passed, swaying to the call of the beat. A hand slid over my hip, trying to pull me closer but I twisted away with an edge of irritation. A few seconds later something else brushed my ribs and a hot breath on my neck carried the heavy scent of liquor. I flinched and felt Ukitake's fingers tighten against my skin. His reiatsu uncoiled, slipping out into the heavy air, and the crowd eased away as it laced itself around us. He glanced over his shoulder, lips tilting faintly, eyes glittering dark in the flickering light.

He turned in the small clearing, releasing my wrist, swaying in place as he watched me for cues. I stepped a little closer and tried to catch the rhythm, but it seemed just as elusive as it had the time before. The problem was that I'd been following_ his_ rhythm, letting it flow through my body on the glide of his reiatsu. I wasn't sure if I could do this myself; feel it, and taste it, and surrender to it on my own.

He must have read my conflict because suddenly he was closer, his hands sliding over me to settle on my hips. He spun me around gently, one arm circling my waist, pulling me into contact with the warmth of his chest.

"Stop thinking about it," he chuckled, his words tickling the back of my ear, moving with the offbeat just as he had the time before.

I let my eyes slip closed, trailing my fingers through his reiatsu, following the roll of his body against mine. I could feel his rhythm in the burn against my skin, tingling through my blood like a whisper in my veins. Maybe Yoruichi was right, that it was the same as fighting, because everything in me narrowed to that single, writhing flow.

He sensed when I shifted, allowing me to turn, his reiatsu licking over me as I followed in his wake. His gaze slid to mine, drunk on the sway and pulse in the room, lashes sliding lower as he closed the space between us. His hand found my waist as his tempo slowly increased, eyes boring into me with a lazy sort of intensity. I followed him fluidly, reading his rhythm on the air, lost in the warmth of his fingers on my skin.

Time seemed to blur, lost to the drive of the beat, dragging me along with its silken, whispered call. He slid against me and then away, his hands gliding over me to show me the path. Beads of sweat rolled down my neck and I threw back my head, laughing as the tension slowly melted away. There was freedom in the music, in the pounding in my veins, and for that brief instant I was alive with its power.

I caught Ukitake's gaze, fixed heavily on me, watching my surrender like he could feel it in himself. My grin pulled wild and he smiled in return, and in that moment we were the only thing that mattered in the room. The rhythm shifted again and he pulled me a little closer, answering the darkening of its complex, pounding sway. My hand slid up his body, feeling the pounding in his chest, feeling the way it matched the music that was singing in my blood.

His teeth dragged over his lip as he let his eyes slide shut, sampling the freedom floating thick on the air. Lost in my surrender, I knew I wanted that, to taste the rhythm on him like he tasted it in the room. I leaned up smoothly, licking a trail across his lip, his breath a hot caress as it traced against my tongue. His eyes slid open when I pulled back slowly, studying me through his lashes as our bodies continued to move. He pulled his lip between his teeth, a smile dawning slowly as he tasted my lingering flavor.

I closed the space between us, catching him in a hasty, fumbling kiss. I was sloppy at best, and my approach was total shit, but I'd never needed anything more than to feel his smile against my lips.

I felt his rhythm falter, a hitched step before he slowed, his hands rising to frame my face as he gently pulled away. I tripped to a halt, staring up at him, confusion and frustration carrying on my damp, panting breath. I didn't know what to say; there was no way to take it back, and my heart skipped for an eternity in the second that hung between us.

He tilted his head slightly, brushing the tips of our noses together, his laugh stirring the air even as it was lost in the noise of the room. His lashes slid lower as he moved the last few inches, his lips sliding over mine with elegant, easy finesse. I let him guide me gently, bringing us better into sync, catching his languid gaze as he coaxed a slower pace.

His hands left my face, one sliding deeper into my hair, the other tracing around to splay along my lower back. He drew me against him, still swaying in time with the rhythm, pulling me into the music as his tongue traced over my lips. I let them part slowly, responding to his unspoken request, and rose up to meet him boldly as his tongue slid into my mouth.

I felt more than heard the sound that purred in his throat, my head spinning under the assault of the electric, foreign touch. He pulled me closer and I pressed up harder, the coil of his reiatsu tingling hot against my skin. He was still moving somehow, swaying slowly with fluid grace, and I was following mindlessly as his power sang against mine.

I couldn't get enough of him; couldn't feel enough, taste enough, be close enough. I felt a thrill of panic as my hands slid up his back, pulling him into me. It was like part of me was terrified that if I let him get away, it would vanish into nothing and I'd wake to the reality of my fractured, shallow life. I'd buried my childhood when I buried my mom, and I'd forsaken my peace when I'd taken up Rukia's sword. My life was conflict, for better or worse, and those moments of happiness were few and far between. I thought I'd resigned myself to the path that I'd chosen, but for that one, brief instant I found myself wishing for something more.

It had been too long since I'd forgotten how to smile; so many days passed not remembering how to laugh. I'd thought things were getting better, but my time with Ukitake had shown it as a pale shard of the life that might have been. I craved his touch like I craved the air in my lungs, like I craved the memory of happiness he seared across my brain. I had every reason to lose myself in that moment, but the echo of my fear kept whispering through my head: What if he was right? What if glimpses of happiness were all we got, to remind us of what we suffered to protect? I didn't think I could stand to see it all slip away.

He broke the kiss slowly, still holding me in place, leaning away slightly to stare down at me. My anxiety spiked and my eyes darted up, catching the whispers in his searching gaze. His hand slid through my hair, fingers curling against my nape, his thumb stroking the skin just behind my ear. I realized we'd stopped moving and that he was watching me with that look that said I might as well have spoken aloud.

I started to duck away, but his hand slipped forward, hooking beneath my jaw and tilting it back into place. His thumb stroked higher, tracing the curve of my cheek and he smiled, sad and understanding. He leaned down, resting his forehead briefly against mine, the damp tendrils of his hair tickling my equally damp skin.

I could already feel the easing in my chest as he pulled away a moment later, and I mirrored his smile with a faint tilt of my lips. Life was just fucked up sometimes, and there was nothing we could really do about it. I wondered vaguely if it would always be that way, or if there was still room for hope beyond the trials to come. His thumb slid down to follow the curve of my lip, and I smiled again, with a little more feeling. He leaned toward me slowly but something caught his eye and at the last second he diverted, jaw grazing my cheek as he pulled me closer.

"It seems I was more distracted than I thought," he said against my ear, words hardly carrying over the pulse of the music. "We appear to have an audience."

I glanced slowly over my shoulder and into the wide, golden eyes of a thoroughly stunned Yoruichi. Her jaw had actually gone a little slack and it would have been funny if not for the totally fucked situation. Beside her, Urahara cocked a brow at me, looking far less surprised than he should have been by a whole lot of things. Fucker. Ukitake's fingers slid over my back as he pulled them out from under my shirt, letting them fall to rest on my hip. I wondered vaguely how long they'd been there, and how long we'd been kissing, for that matter. I supposed it couldn't have been very long, but it really didn't matter when all was said and done. Duration wasn't a factor in the scope of my transgression.

I turned slowly to face them and Ukitake let his hand fall away, though he remained in place to shield me from the crowd. I really didn't know what to say at that point. What _was_ there to say? There was no rational explanation for what had been going on, and there would never be an excuse to make it all go away. Fuck that, I didn't _want_ to make an excuse. I didn't want to explain myself, or apologize for shit I wasn't sorry for, or look away like I was ashamed of what I'd done. I wasn't ashamed. I wasn't even embarrassed anymore, and like a ray of fucking sunlight pouring into my brain, I realized the simplicity of the truth: I just didn't care what they thought. Life was short and I was already living on borrowed time.

I looked back at Ukitake, meeting his calm, assessing gaze, giving him a little shrug because words weren't really necessary. I tilted my head in the direction of the door, my brow arching faintly as my lips started to curve. I saw his own smile echo in reply, and felt the flicker of something in my chest. Turning back to the others I took a step forward, leaning close to Yoruichi so she could hear me over the noise.

"I told you to fuck off for a reason," I reminded her, clapping her on the shoulder.

She twitched a little at the contact, lips parting as she turned, though she couldn't find the words in her still stunned state. One of her precarious heels skittered rough across the floor and Urahara had to catch her against him to keep her on her feet. He shook his head amusedly, shooting me a knowing glance, but I didn't even slow as I made my way through the crowd.

Fuck the world if it didn't like it, I just couldn't find the will to care anymore.


	6. Friday Pt2

**Friday, part 2 - **

_**~ "The hardest thing to do is to walk away, knowing that tomorrow may never come." ~**_

I headed for the front door, and behind me I could feel Ukitake following, pausing to say something to Urahara but I didn't wait. I slipped into the cool night air and turned, passing through the throng of people still milling in the street. A darkened alley opened beside me and I slipped into the shadows to escape the crowd. Ukitake found me before I'd made it half a block, catching my arm and pressing me into a wall. He braced his forearms on either side of my head, leaning down to stare at me before slowly claiming my mouth.

"Are you always this high strung?" He murmured against my lips, smile curling faintly at his own humor.

"Probably," I admitted breathlessly, reaching out to taste the tongue sliding into my mouth.

He chuckled low in his throat, the vibrations tingling between us as his hands slid to my neck, thumbs tracing over my racing pulse. I caught the edge of his shirt as I trailed up his back, the exposed skin warm beneath my fingers. He shivered faintly at the cool touch, pressing me into the wall as our tongues danced together. His hands traced over me, settling on my hips and I groaned, my fingers sliding further up his spine. He broke from my mouth, trailing kisses along my jaw and my head hit the wall as he started down my neck.

I couldn't even think, my hips bucking against his hold. I'd never been so hard in my entire life, and I _needed_ the burn of friction or I was going to lose my mind. I tightened an arm around his waist, my free hand twisting in the short hairs at the base of his skull. My fingers slid lower, hooking the strap around his neck and I pulled him up, catching his mouth, slipping my tongue past his still parted lips. His hands faltered on my hips and I jerked, shuddering as his body rolled against mine. I did it again, stealing his hitched breath, and he choked off a moan, tearing his mouth away from my continued assault.

"It's not a fight, Kurosaki," he panted against my kiss, but there was a darkening in his eyes that said he didn't mind at all. "You don't have to force my submission."

"Stop calling me that," I groaned, licking the curve of his mouth.

He nipped at my lips, pulling back to catch me with his heavy, liquid gaze. "If I call you anything else, you're not going to make it home tonight."

Well there was a fucking idea.

I hadn't been thinking that far ahead, but I really didn't need to because the words burned over me and I knew _exactly_ how I felt about it. His mouth found my neck again and I made a sound that should have been embarrassing, except that I was beyond caring. It was thrilling, and electric, and a little terrifying all at the same time. The shard of rational thought that was still left functioning knew that shit would probably hurt, but it didn't even matter. _Life_ hurt all the time, but I kept doing it anyway, and I would have given anything in that moment to feel his skin against mine.

"Call me Ichigo," I whispered against his ear, catching his earring between my teeth.

He groaned faintly as my tongue traced his lobe, a shiver running through him when I sucked a little harder.

"You're terrible," he panted along the curve of my throat, his voice a low rumble as he leaned into my touch.

He broke free and caught my mouth, the kiss burning hotter, wilder, deeper than before. His hands cupped my neck, thumbs sliding under my jaw to tilt my head back as he possessed me. I arched into him, my fingers digging into his hip as I dragged him to meet my aching body. I moaned along his tongue, grinding against whatever friction I could find, desperate and needy. My other hand slipped back under his shirt, nails scraping over flawless skin. He shifted, his thigh sliding between my legs and my head fell back on a sharp hiss as he moved slowly, deliberately against me.

"As tempting as your offer may be, Kurosaki, this is neither the time nor the place."

Seemingly at odds with his words, his hips rolled again, thigh dragging over me in a way that stole my breath. I groaned, feeling like there were some serious mixed signals going on, but not really caring as long as he didn't stop. My head fell forward against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as I ground into him.

Unfortunately, he seemed to recognize his lapse as well, stilling against me and starting to pull away. My arms tightened, holding him in place.

"Don't," I breathed, lips brushing the leather around his neck.

"I can't, Kurosaki."

He leaned back to catch my gaze, brows pulling together in painful reluctance. I could read everything in that fractured moment, his face open and unguarded across the scant space between us. He wanted to continue so bad that he was trembling, but his lingering hesitance was stronger than his need. I was too young, and it was so fast, and the future was just too uncertain with everything left to come. He didn't want to hurt me, and he didn't want to be hurt, but there was no room for promises in our brutal, crumbling world.

"I'd let you do it," I whispered, and even the need and understanding couldn't keep the awkwardness from my voice. I dropped my eyes but continued anyway. "I'd let you fuck me."

I felt him tense for a moment and knew I'd said it badly, but I willed him to understand the underlying thought.

He sighed, resting his forehead against my hair. "Kurosaki..."

"I want you to," I pressed, needing him to understand even if I really didn't myself.

He leaned away and caught my chin, pulling me to meet his dark, searching gaze.

"Do you?" He frowned softly, thumb tracing my cheek, and there were a dozen different questions in the deceptively simple words.

"I just…," I didn't know how to say it when I wasn't sure what _it_ meant. Anxiety and acceptance all tied in a knot, and I was left trying to find the answers at the tip of my tongue. "I just want…you." I shrugged, because in the end it was all I knew, but it was enough.

His eyes softened but the frown remained, his thumb still trailing patterns over my skin. "You're young; you still have plenty of time to –"

"I don't," I cut him off gently, holding his gaze as I leaned into the touch. "You know that I don't; or at least you can't know that I do."

A look of profound sadness flitted across his face and I felt a twinge of guilt even though I'd only spoken the truth. He detangled himself and ran a hand over his hair, turning to lean against the wall, so close that our shoulders touched.

"It would be unbearable to have you live with the regret of a decision made for all the wrong reasons." He reached up, working the buckle on his Quincy collar until it finally slid free, baring his throat to the thickening air. He turned it over in his hands, staring down but not really seeing it. "You should take the time to find out what you want, and _who_ you want, before you rush head-long past your natural apprehension."

I frowned because the words didn't fit and it took me a minute to realize exactly how fucked my approach had been. He'd read my awkwardness as reluctant acceptance, like I was grasping at the opportunity because I might not get another. If that were the case then he was a matter of convenience, a means to an end I was rushing recklessly toward. He was caught in a moment of uncertainty, I could see it in his face, and for once his own conflict kept him from reading me like a book.

"It's not like that," I muttered, heart pounding painfully in my chest. I ran a frustrated hand over my face, trying to straighten out my thoughts.

The faint chime of his phone sounded in the stillness, but he ignored it in favor of turning to meet my gaze.

"Then what _is_ it like?"

Even though I'd known the question was coming I couldn't stop my wince, but damn me and damn my awkward bullshit, I was going to make it right.

"It's just…." I could already feel the heat creeping into my face. I licked my suddenly dry lips and gave it another shot. "It's just…" _Fuck_, that was the same thing again. I took a deep breath. "I know what I want, and _who_ I want, but it's a fucking weird thing to say out loud, you know? How the fuck am I supposed to say...that?"

I winced again as he cocked a dark brow, but I could see the comprehension dawning behind his suddenly shrewd gaze. It made my face burn even hotter, and suddenly I felt compelled to explain.

"I mean I _never_ thought I'd say…it's just….I mean, _I'd let you…_you know…." Fucking fantastic. I couldn't get the words off my tongue, and I was babbling like a moronic 12-year-old girl.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and huffed out an annoyed breath, trying to decide if I was cursed or just a fuck-up. I felt Ukitake's arm shiver against mine, and shot him a suspicious glance from the corner of my eye. He had the backs of his fingers pressed to his tightly pursed lips, trying to forestall the laughter riding along his frame.

"Great," I muttered sullenly, but I could already feel my lips twitching in response.

His free arm slid between me and the wall, and I let him pull me against him because it was where I wanted to be anyway. I turned toward him, dropping my forehead onto his shoulder, and he chuckled into my hair, shaking his head slowly.

"You find the most interesting things to be embarrassed about," he murmured, hands sliding further up my spine as he pulled back to look at me. I met his gaze slowly, fighting the heat in my cheeks. "Of all the possible complications, the dozens of legitimate, practical concerns, you waste your worry on something as mundane as phrasing."

"Well, it _is_ pretty fucked up," I grumbled, my eyes drifting to his mouth.

"Not as much as you seem to think," he assured me, lips curling up at one corner.

My gaze flicked back up, and I gave him the best flat stare I could manage, which wasn't very good at all.

"Who _says_ shit like that? I mean, _I'd let you…_ you know.._._" I still couldn't get it out. It was amazing I managed the first time.

"I don't know," he chuckled again, leaning in to brush his lips against my temple. He continued forward, jaw grazing my cheek, tongue slipping out to trace my earlobe. My breath hitched and I felt him smile, lips moving warm against my skin as he spoke. "I'd let _you_ fuck _me_."

"S-shit."

A shiver ran the full length of my spine and I swayed forward involuntarily, my body returning to hardness so fast that it drew a ragged gasp from my still shocked lips. I knew he was teasing me, he _had_ to be, and for some reason I felt the need to prove I could keep up.

"Show-off," I grumbled, swallowing thickly and striving desperately for a lighter tone. The grace with which he could say that shit was a real disadvantage for me. "It easy if you don't mean it."

I had a feeling that probably wasn't true, but it was all I had and it sounded okay at the time.

The corner of his mouth pulled faintly and he leaned down, breath mingling with mine only an inch away.

"I did mean it, Kurosaki," he murmured against my lips, and I could taste the words as they slid over my skin. "I actually prefer it that way, truth be told."

"Huh?" I whispered distractedly, my foggy brain trying to find some meaning in the seemingly foreign words. And then suddenly it clicked. "Oh fuck. You'd want_…_I mean…you want _me_ to..."

"More than I should," he admitted softly, brushing a kiss over my still fumbling mouth.

I shivered under his touch, pressing him deeper into the wall as unbidden images chased fast through my mind. His arms tightened around me and he chuckled, catching my lower lip for a brief second between his teeth. I almost lost it, washed away in the moment, before my brain finally stalled at an unfortunate, inescapable fact.

"I'd be shit," I blurted out stupidly, and of all the things I could have said it was both the most honest and the least sexy. I felt my high start to evaporate in the face of the sheer number of things I could possibly fuck up. "I don't know how…but you know that, right? I mean, I'd be…fuck-"

He leaned forward, sealing his lips over mine, licking the words from my tongue in a long, slow stroke.

"You'd be beautiful," he murmured, pulling back to study me fondly, "and even if you weren't at first, I have near infinite patience in some things."

He smiled and I couldn't help but smile back, even though I could see some of the old wistfulness settling into his gaze.

"Unfortunately," he continued, his hands shifting to my hips, "I was also telling the truth when I said this was neither the time nor the place."

I could see the resolve burrowing deeper as the last vestiges of his music drugged high began to fade, and even though the words were light, I knew where the underlying current led.

"So old enough to drink and old enough to die, but not old enough to fuck," I muttered, feeling tired but unable to find the anger I'd expected. I was hard to fault him for something that could very well be true.

"Your phrasing is atrocious," he leaned his head against the wall, "and it's not that simple."

"I know," I said softly, because I honestly did. "It never is."

Simplicity wasn't a luxury any of us had anymore, and there were probably a hundred different reasons that it was a bad idea. I didn't want to hear them. I didn't need to. I must have been a paradox to him. Not a child, but not a man; not a human, but not a Shinigami. Fuck, with the memory of that hollow laugh still burning in my ears I knew there was a good chance I might not be either. He was my escape from the shadow of my make-believe life, but I was his reluctant, conflicted sin. As the pull of wild abandon slipped from my veins, it suddenly felt wrong to push him past his better judgment just so I could find a moments peace. He'd seen enough shit to last a dozen lifetimes, and he didn't deserve more from me.

In the stretching silence I heard his phone ring again, a faint chime in the night, but he still made no move to answer it. The sound was enough to jar me from my reflection, though, and I tried pull away but his hands wouldn't relinquish their hold. I sought out his gaze in silent confusion and found him watching me with a mixture of infinite longing and quiet reluctance. One of his hands finally slid free, rising to ghost fingers over my lips and cheek. They trailed further, gliding over the curve of my ear and he sighed.

"Forgive me, Kurosaki," he whispered softly, and I couldn't even ask why because his lips were on mine.

It was different than before, less frantic and more profound. Without any outside influence, and consumed in his control, I was lost in the simple, intoxicating feel of _him_. Ukitake Juushiro kissed like art; every touch, move and taste coiling together in graceful harmony. I was dimly aware that we were moving, but even when the fence across the alley pressed into my back I couldn't find the will to care. I followed his every move, I couldn't help it, and his finesse played over me drawing out my own. After what could have been years he finally pulled away, thumbs stroking my neck as he panted against my lips.

"I want you," he admitted quietly, almost as if to himself. "Very much. More than I should. More than I wanted to."

His lips brushed mine once more, like he wanted to memorize the feel of them pressed against his skin.

"You erode my control, and I know it's dangerous, but I have trouble even being concerned at times like these." He pulled back slightly, eyes flicking to meet mine. "I am not accustomed to hesitation or uncertainty, but I find myself in that position increasingly often as of late."

"Sorry," I said softly, because I didn't know what else to say.

"Stop apologizing at random," he chuckled, leaning away to grant me some space.

"Sorry?" I cocked an eyebrow and smiled when his laughter deepened.

His phone rang again before he could form a reply, and he glanced down at his pocket with a sigh of frustration.

"Fuck, Juushiro. How many people have your number?" I wondered aloud, watching him retrieve the phone with obvious reluctance.

"Only five," he replied absently, staring down at the screen. He sighed again and I swear he might have even rolled his eyes a little before finally answering it.

"Is this in any way important, Shunsui?" He asked in lieu of a traditional greeting.

He shifted as he waited for a reply, turning to lean against the chain link beside me and tossing me an apologetic look. I just shrugged, because even though Kyouraku-taichou was a bit of a trip, even I would have answered after three calls. Something _might_ have been wrong. He slid a little closer and I realized that, either by accident or design, I could hear the muted voice on the other side of the line. I guessed it was probably intentional. He didn't seem the type to be careless.

"-_but Yama-jii was picking on me, so it took awhile."_

"So, can I assume this is _not_, in fact, important?" Ukitake sighed, drawing up a knee and propping his heel against the fence.

"_Of course it is; it's _always_ important. You're not at your hotel…."_

"You're right, I'm not," Ukitake agreed, sounding amused. "Are _you_ at my hotel?"

"_Yeah…I was trying to head off Kiyone and Sentarou, but Yama-jii wanted to lecture me about _discretion_ and _responsibility_ before he'd give me clearance."_

Ukitake shook his head, reaching up to knead the skin between his brows with two fingers.

"And why would Kiyone and Sentarou be at my hotel?" He sounded resigned, like he could already guess at the answer.

"_Well, they apparently got into an argument about whether or not you'd need help wrapping up your mission, which led to a fight. Then that led to _another _argument about whether you'd be sad about either being away from Seireitei or coming back, I couldn't really tell. Apparently they've been _concerned_ lately, which is nothing new, I suppose. I imagine you know where it goes from there…"_

"Unfortunately," Ukitake acknowledged, tilting his head to meet my blatant stare. "They would undoubtedly assume that my strict orders to remain in Seireitei were merely a suggestion, and not at all in my best interest."

"_That does sound like them." _ The disembodied voice agreed.

"And of course they would then feel the need to seek me out as quickly and loudly as possible lest I find myself in want of anything they could provide."

"_Of course."_

Ukitake sighed again, but with the air of someone who was far too familiar with his current predicament.

"_Normally I wouldn't have bothered you, because you have that wonderful gigai, but I can feel that you've been using your reiatsu, which means they'll be able to find you."_

Ukitake tilted his head slightly, his gaze loosing focus for a moment, and I felt a little surge of awareness crawl up my spine. He frowned, eyes narrowing in concentration, and turned his gaze toward the glow of the street. He removed the phone for a moment and I thought I heard him whisper something before I felt another pulse of reiatsu sing over my nerves. When he turned back I could hear laughter coming from the phone as he replaced it at his ear.

"_That's only going to buy you 10 minutes at best. What are you up to that requires such secrecy, Juu-chan?"_

Ukitake smiled at the nickname, shifting against the fence to face me fully. "Nothing you need to be concerned with."

"_You know, I tried Kisuke when I couldn't get you the first time. I was surprised you weren't with him, and even more so when he was interestingly vague about where you'd run off to."_

I cocked an eyebrow at that, because I'd never pictured Urahara as the soul of discretion. Ukitake's free hand rose, tracing the lines of my disbelief before threading his fingers into my hair.

"I had other plans," he said blandly, and I couldn't help but grin at the way nothing seemed to concern him.

"_If I didn't know you better, Juu-chan, I might think you'd picked up a lovely companion while roaming the night, and were being evasive about it."_

"Good thing you know me better than that," Ukitake drawled as his arm slid around me, pulling me closer. He rested his cheek against my hair as he chuckled. "Fortunately I'm not the one who requires lectures on behavior every time I'm out in public."

"_Fair enough." _I could hear him laughing again. "_Besides, I think I might actually drop dead if you came out of your self-imposed celibacy, even if it _is_ getting a bit ridiculous at this point."_

"Hmm…," he hummed amusedly, brushing his nose against my temple. "I'd really hate to lose you that way, Shun. I truly hope you weather the shock better than that."

I heard Kyouraku-taichou start to chuckle, but he cut off short. "_Hey, wait. What's that supposed to mean?"_

"Goodnight, Shun," Ukitake said smoothly. "I'll see you in a bit."

He pressed the end button, cutting the other man off mid-reply, and dropped the phone back into his pocket. His hand cupped my neck and my arm slid around his back as I turned into his embrace, but I already knew what came next.

"This is an unfortunate end to the night," he murmured, brows pulling together even as a smile started to show through.

"Its bullshit," I muttered sullenly, even though I felt calmer than I had in years. "Your people are out of control."

"Oh, I'm well aware," he laughed, his face relaxing as he pulled me fully against him. "But they do _mean_ well."

I huffed out an annoyed breath but didn't argue. I'd seen the way he was with his subordinates during our brief encounters in Seireitei. There were like his family and he cared deeply for all of them. It would have been like me trying to tell Chad to stay behind when he thought he was doing what was best for me. Except that Chad wasn't an annoying pain in my ass. Can't really choose your family, thought, so it was what it was.

"They really will be here in moments," he sighed.

"Yeah, I know."

There were so many things left up in the air, and no time to cover what needed to be said. It really was bullshit, but that was my life; it was the nature of our world, and somehow it was okay. I was okay. He kissed me again, slow, and brief, and a little bittersweet. I realized, on some fractured, hazy level, that with the way he kissed I was probably ruined for anyone else, but it didn't matter. I didn't want anyone else.

When he released me I didn't linger, because being grilled by his bat-shit crazy stalkers was trouble _no one_ wanted. Best to avoid it while I could, even though I was determined to head down path sooner rather than later. Fuck it, and fuck them if they couldn't deal with it. He touched my cheek, his fingers hesitating a few seconds longer than they should have before he bid me goodnight and set off away from the club.

"I want to know something," I called after him and he stilled, turning back in my direction and tilting his head in silent question.

"If this _was_ a different time, and there wasn't all the extra shit, and if I was…something…"

I stalled out for a second because I was pretty sure I was on my way to not making sense again, but he seemed to understand.

"Kurosaki, are you asking me if, in a different scenario, I might have let you push me up against the wall of a dark alley and have your way with me?"

When he said it like that it just sounded sleazy, but when I opened my mouth to take it back the curve of his lips stilled the words on my tongue.

"I suppose anything's possible," he drawled slowly, his gaze running hot over me for a lingering moment. "You'll just have to find out for yourself someday, wont you?"

He gave me an absolutely wicked smile, one I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen it myself, before turning on his heel and drifting into the gloom. His nearly silent footsteps faded into nothing, but I remained rooted to the spot because I'd forgotten how to do anything else. I felt a slow grin burn its way across my lips and couldn't help the laughter that followed in its wake. Random fucking bullshit, all the damn time.

And I loved it.

* * *

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**A/N:** _Well, I'm not quite on the schedule I wanted, but such is life sometimes. I finally have my own computer again, which is certainly making life easier. I might have even had this chapter up sooner, but life keeps throwing me curves. About a week ago, my 1 year old kitten pulled his scratching post down on himself, because he's never heard the term 'cat-like reflexes'. I didn't think anything of it until he was still limping a little while later. I took him to the vet and he'd broken his hip. Seriously. That happened. And to top it off, you can't put a cast on a broken hip. They have to get surgery. 1 year old kitten + broken hip (!) + cat surgery (there really are cat surgeons) = I'd never even considered that a cat could break their hip! (and a late chapter). So yeah, sorry about that._

_As for the story, I'd originally planned to end it here and then publish a sequel later. I've even started said sequel. I have, however, received some interest from reviewers about seeing something from Ukitake's perspective in regards to what happened in this story. I don't usually take requests, because I have story outlines going in, but I'll admit this has piqued my interest. I've actually written the better part of a chapter based on that very request, and now am unsure of how I want to proceed. _

_There would only be the one chapter, and the sequel would still take place, but I'm thinking of leaving it up to the reviewers as to whether I should tack it onto the end of this story or not. Basically, there are two options here. I can either continue this story for one more chapter, giving a glimpse of Ukitake's inner workings, or I can call this story complete as-is. I'd love to hear your opinions one way or the other, and once again, I truly appreciate everyone who has reviewed to this point! Thanks._


	7. Author's Note

**A/N**: I've decided to mark this story as complete, but I wanted to give an update to those who are following it in hopes of further developments. I'm planning on publishing a separate one-shot that covers some of Ukitake's perspective in the next couple of days. It takes place immediately following the events of this story, but seeing as it's a different voice, and a different feel, I thought it really deserved to be its own piece.

I am also currently working on a sequel, which I hope to begin publishing in the near future.

For those who want to keep an eye out, the one-shot will be titled _'The Truth of Shadows: Ukitake_'. I have not set the title of the sequel yet, but the current working-title is Solstice. Who knows, it might just stick.

Anyway, I just want to thank everyone who has followed and enjoyed this story, and especially those who have taken the time to review. I truly appreciate the support and feedback.

- Silver


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